Manipulated
by ItsAStrangeDay
Summary: Six years ago, an adult in a position of authority convinced a fifteen year old to participate in BDSM under the guise of offering a way to gain control. After years of methodical manipulation can she be saved?
1. Chapter 1

_**CHRISTIAN**_

"Mr. Grey, your two o'clock, Mr. Scott Kennedy is here," Andrea said, popping her head into his office door.

"Thanks, Andrea. Send him in," he nodded, quickly reading through the last paragraph on the financial report he was reviewing to make sure he was completely aware of the facts regarding Mr. Kennedy's company. It was nothing new compared to the information he'd originally been given. He wanted this company, which was based right here in Seattle.. The business had good ideas, good materials, good planning, and good execution. Mr. Kennedy was intelligent and driven and had made a pretty penny off his company. Christian mainly spent him time going after failing companies, but this one was a rare case where he wanting a thriving one. He wanted it and needed it for its ability to bolster his other eco-friendly tech companies.

But there was one problem: he knew Kennedy was going to be a hard sell. He'd built his company from nothing, just like Christian had. Hell, the man had been a high school science teacher when he risked it all to do something he was passionate about. That's why Christian was willing to offer to keep him on, keep him in charge, just under the GEH umbrella. Christian didn't want to lose Kennedy. He had a feeling the company would not be as efficient without him, and it was a field Christian wouldn't be able to properly manage anyway. He'd be struggling to find someone to put in charge of the acquired division, and there weren't many specialist in the field. Kennedy was the best, and he demanded the best. It only made sense to offer him a package deal to come with the company and join the GEH brand.

His office door opened again, revealing a man in his mid-to-early forties, black hair with a few grays sprouting, and notably green eyes. He was tall, fit, well dressed in a tailored suit, and poised with confidence, unlike so many of the groveling idiots who had walked through the door before him. If he was as smart as Christian suspected, he knew he had something Christian wanted. He knew he was holding the cards.

"Mr. Kennedy, it's a pleasure," he said, standing and rounding his desk to greet him with a proper handshake. "Christian Grey."

"Mr. Grey," he nodded. Kennedy stepped aside, and behind him stood perhaps the most beautiful woman Christian had ever seen. She was petite, fair skinned, and brunette, which were all qualities to which he was normally drawn. But she was so much more. She was stunning. She exuded soft femininity. Her features were gentle, the angles of her face smooth and soft. _Aphrodite_. His own mental version of the Greek goddess of beauty, she looked like she should have her image carved from a piece of flawless marble. She was wearing a sky blue dress that was demure, yet hugged her in all the right places in just the right ways that it still could be classified as sexy. Her grooming was impeccable, not a hair out of place, her makeup flawless. His eyes were glued to her as she stood in the doorway.

And then she looked up. Christian felt his heart, his breath, stop for a moment. It was cheesy, so cheesy, but he swore time stood still. Her eyes were the clearest, most amazing eyes he had ever seen. They were like giant cobalt pools piercing straight into his soul. Mesmerizing. He was instantly drawn to her in a way he had never been drawn to a woman before. He wanted to know everything about her. He was like a man starving. He needed to know her. He _needed_ to. Her own eyes went a little wide as they took in the features of his face, darkening slightly in obvious appreciation, a reaction he was more than used to. But from her, it sent his blood aflame in his veins.

"Mr. Grey, may I introduce my PA, Miss Anastasia Steele."

Anastasia Steele. God, had there ever been a more beautiful name than that? It just fit her. Striking, alluring. It flowed off the tongue like a melody. He wanted to say it. He needed to feel it on his lips.

"Anastasia, it's a pleasure. Christian Grey," he said, extending his hand to her. The timber of his voice was lower than normal, a husky edge scrapping the vowels of her name as it left his lips.

She extended her hand, her shy voice coming out like tinkling bells, like angels singing, only slightly breathy. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Grey." Their hands touched, and it was like an electric shock ran through him the moment their fingers touched. Her fingers were so slender, long and delicate, her nails painted a pale, innocent pink. Beautiful.

He knew he needed to look away, to let go of her hand, but he did neither. And she didn't make any move to indicate she was uncomfortable holding his undivided attention. In fact, her eyes did a little searching of their own, sweeping him from the tips of his cooper curls to the expensive Italian shoes donning his feet, before settling back on his face. Was she feeling what he was feeling? He continued to stare into her eyes, trying to read her, completely overwhelmed by the affect she was having on him. The intensity was stifling. He felt hot, determined want building up inside of him.

He watched the lightest, most beautiful blush creep across her cheeks just before she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, sinking them into it is such a way he had to hold back an audible groan. Fuck, now he was wondering what that plush, pink lip would feel like between his own teeth. Or around his-

" **Ana.** _ **Sit**_ ," the gruff and clearly irritated voice snapped from next to them, drawing them both from their reverie. Kennedy looked down at her with an intensity that made Christian himself uncomfortable. There was something foreboding about him. His body was pulled straight and rigid in a power stance; his green eyes were so dark they were almost black as they bore into the young girl who was now practically wilting in front of him.

Ana yanked her hand from his grip, her eyes hitting the floor, but not before he managed to see the look of dread in them, her cheeks now blazing red instead of the light flush from a moment ago.

"Yes, Sir," she said quietly, following Mr. Kennedy's order immediately and taking a seat on one of the two white leather chairs facing Christian's desk.

"Not there. Over there," he scowled, pointing to the couch on the opposite wall.

"Yes, Sir," was again her quick response as she stood swiftly and moved to the couch.

"I apologize on behalf of my assistant for her behavior, Mr. Grey," Kennedy said.

"She did nothing wrong," Christian said slowly, thoroughly confused by what had just transpired before him.

"She's been taught that a good PA is one that does not draw attention to herself," he said loudly, making a point not only to Christian but to Anastasia as well.

Christian was bewildered by what was taking place right now. What was this man talking about? "Nonsense, Mr. Kennedy. She did nothing of the sort. She was professionally courteous. Nothing more."

"Ana, thank Mr. Grey for standing up for you. He is nobly ignoring your transgression in an attempt to save you from punishment," Kennedy said, her voice cold and hard.

 _Punishment_? For **what**? He wanted to say something, wanted to insist again that nothing had happened, that she did not need to thank him, but be had the distinct feeling that doing so would just keep making the situation worse.

"Thank you, Mr. Grey," she said, her voice tight, completely missing the warmth that was laced in her brief greeting earlier. And still, her eyes did not look up. The air in the room hung heavy now, a thick tension all around as the three stayed still in the complete silence.

"Shall we? I have another meeting this afternoon, Mr. Grey," Kennedy said, nodding toward Christian's desk.

"Yes of course," he said, his utterly professional persona sliding into the driver's seat for the time being.

And so the meeting went. There was hot debate, that was for sure. He was correct in assuming Mr. Kennedy would not go down without a fight. This was about more than money. He was passionate about his company. Christian could have kept throwing out numbers, but that would have just been insulting. Instead, he knew he needed to find the right combination of numbers and offer the right amount of control for Kennedy to still have. Like Christian, he owned his company outright. He didn't have to answer to a board when he started the company, and so he didn't like the idea of answering to someone now. But Christian was able to convince him that he trusted Kennedy with the company, and as long as things kept running the way they were running, Christian would pretty much be nonexistent to him. Yes, officially Kennedy would report things to new financial branches that he hadn't before, and yes, at the end of the day, Christian had ultimate veto power, but tweaking the benefits and salary Christian was offering him was enough to make those things less of an issue. Kennedy was also worried about his loyal staff losing their jobs. Christian assured that 90% of those jobs were safe, and the rest could probably be relocated to other areas of GEH, so they wouldn't go without. Business would continue as usual for almost all involved. Plus, with Christian's team backing them up, some of the load would be relieved, leaving Kennedy to deal with less of the mundane business part, and more of the stuff he was passionate about that caused him to start the company to begin with.

All these things were discussed, some ad nauseum, until Christian finally had Kennedy nodding his head and shaking his hand in agreement of the merger. Kennedy was a good man who wanted to do good things for the world, while taking care of his employees. And as long as all that remained possible, he was willing to be flexible. And he knew, ultimately, that doing all this under the GEH name would only help increase demand and production, and in the end, that was what was important to him—getting the technologies out there.

As intense as some of the discussion had been, Christian caught himself slightly distracted, attempting to catch the eye of Miss Steele again as she remained silently seated on the couch for the duration. But she steadfastly kept her head down, buried into her tablet, making constant notes of the conversation. Not once did she glance up, not even for a second.

 _ **ANA**_

"I look forward to our partnership, Mr. Kennedy," Mr. Grey said, shaking Scott's hand as they made their way to his office door.

"I do as well, Mr. Grey," Scott nodded. "Come, Ana," he said, not looking in her direction as he nodded his head toward the door. She tried to hurry, knowing that any little thing was liable to increase Scott's anger tenfold right now. She could see it in his harsh, unyielding eyes. Her ass was in for a long night tonight. But she was cut short from her scurry toward the door, feeling the electrical charge in the air as _he_ stepped closer to her.

"Again, it was a pleasure meeting you as well, Anastasia," Mr. Grey said _. Short and sweet, Ana, short and sweet. Don't reciprocate things will just be worse._

"Thank you, Mr. Grey," she nodded, never stopping, never looking up as she walked out the door after her boss.

They passed the reception desk, bidding a good afternoon to the two blondes sitting behind the large desk. She saw the one on the left, Olivia, if she remembered correctly, eyeing Scott as he walked past. Nothing new there. He was an extremely attractive man. He had women's heads turning everywhere he went. From underpaid science teacher to entrepreneur CEO. Classic Cinderella story. And he wore the CEO hat like it was tailor made for him. And he did the sexy older-man thing like it was his goddamn job. Perfect black hair, salt and pepper just at his temples, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkled in the most endearing way when he smiled. Speaking of his eyes, holy shit, his eyes. They were like glittering emeralds, fathomless… beautiful. She was sure he'd be richer than Mr. Grey himself if he had a nickel for every time someone swooned over his eyes alone. And he took care of himself, of that there was no doubt. He had a strict eating and workout regimen to keep the fit body that was better than most men half his age. He exuded charm, coolness, confidence, and ease. He knew he was handsome, he knew he was a success, and he played it off like it was nothing, which made him that more intriguing to the masses of women always turning their heads for a better look.

So, yeah, Ana was used to watching him be ogled. It was nothing new. As soon as they passed the desk and were just out of ear shot, she heard him speak.

"How dare you gawk at another man in front of me," Scott said, his voice ominous and low, void of the emotion she knew bubbled just below the surface. "That was the most disrespectful display I have ever seen from you. I cannot fathom what you must have been thinking, gaping like that at a man, any man, but especially a man with whom I am about to do important business, blushing and biting your lip at him like a goddamn hormonal teenager."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Ana said, rushing to keep up with his quick steps.

"And he stood there, pretending you had done nothing wrong, _defending_ you, when we both know you'd made a grievous error, correct?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And he didn't take his eyes off of you the whole meeting. Because of your abhorrent, obvious, deplorable behavior, Christian Grey, _my future boss_ , was focused on _you_. Do you not think your detestable behavior deserves punishment, Ana?" he asked, coming to a stop in front of the elevator and pressing the button to recall it.

"If you think so, Sir, then yes," she said, head low, eyes downcast, voice timid.

"I do think so, Ana. I think it deserves quite severe punishment," he said as the doors slid open and he stepped onto the elevator, Ana following behind him. As soon as the door slid closed, he turned on heel, taking slow, deliberate steps toward her. Her hand, which was on the rail running horizontally across the elevator wall, clamped down on it to steady herself under his angry gaze. "You will meet me at my home tonight, Ana. You will come prepared to spend hours making your poor judgment up to me. You. are. mine, Anastasia. And you obviously need to be reminded of that fact."

 **A/N: I have no intention of writing any play-by-play sex scenes between Ana and Mr. Kennedy. I will be alluding to them, even summarizing them where they seem fit. You** _ **will**_ **know that they do occur. But I'm not breaking down full lemons between the pair. I know it's something a lot of you hate to read, and I cannot foresee it benefiting my story in any way to detail the encounters, so at this point I don't see a reason to include them. Just thought I cut down on the amount of death threats I'd get warning me not to. But again, I will go into some detail with their physicality, when I feel it benefits the story. Obviously it's a huge point of the story that they have a 'relationship' so let us not forget that. If you don't like it, well, you know where the door is. To everyone else, thanks in advance for feedback! This story won't be like my other, for those who read it, where it's super deep into the emotional/psychological aspects of the characters. More external situations/dialogue, less super-deep internal debate and all that. So chapters won't be as long or as detailed because the whole tone isn't the same. Just fair warning not to expect 6,000-10,000 word long chapters with this one lol. But many will be longer than this one.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello everyone! I just wanted to say a quick and sincere thank you for all the reviews, favorites and follows on the first chapter of this story! I wanted to get this one out there so you could start to understand Ana's background better. Christian's will come in pieces over time, but to answer the question everyone wanted to know, no, he had no BDSM past. But that's all I'm saying! And for those asking about Guilty Conscious, I promise I'm working on that too!**

 _ **ANA**_

 _ **Six Years Earlier**_

" _Miss Steele, may I please see you for a moment after class?" Mr. Kennedy asked seconds before the final bell rang. She nodded. It's not like she could say no. He was her teacher. Her teacher of a class she was struggling in. She loved her advanced lit class. She liked her elective cooking class. She could pass history, foreign language, even though she didn't care much for them. Math… eh. It was doable. But this physics class was killing her. What she wouldn't give to just stay at home and read all day._

 _Because let's face it, she didn't fit in at school. She was shy—_ painfully _shy. She'd been shipped around by her mom from state to state to state for so long, following the slew of men she dared to marry within months of the first introduction. She had finally been allowed to move back to Montesano with Ray three months ago, but no one here knew her. No one tried. She'd already felt uncomfortable in social situations, but the pressure of high school gave her severe anxiety. She was so uncomfortable in her own skin she was often clumsy, dropping things or tripping over her own two feet. Kids poked fun at her for being so quiet and so nervous. She'd been asked to a danced once and stuttered through the whole conversation, only to find out it was a joke in the end._

 _She hated school._

 _So she kept to herself._

" _Is this about my quiz, Mr. Kennedy," she asked after all the students had left the room. "I had a feeling I didn't do well."_

" _I haven't even graded them yet," he said, pulling a chair up next to his desk and motioning for her to take a seat. He flashed her a smile, and she had to admit, for an adult, he was handsome. Jet black hair, dark green eyes. He was self-assured, something she craved to be. She knew girls all over school swooned over him. He was the resident hottie teacher they all joked about sleeping with in exchange for good grades. Ana didn't really give any thought to dating—she didn't have the power to attract friends, let alone the power to attract a boyfriend. She'd kissed a boy once in the brief time she lived in Las Vegas, before coming back to Montesano, but that was it. So she didn't even entertain thoughts of boys, like most girls her age did. But even she had to admit, Mr. Kennedy was attractive. He had friendly eyes and a kind smile. He was always willing to help Ana out after class, offering her extra credit to keep her grade up. He knew she struggled, and did what he could to help, and she appreciated it._

" _What is this about then?" she asked._

 _He leaned against his desk, right next to where her chair was. His arms were crossed over his chest, one foot crossed over the other at the ankle. He looked down at her, his eyes boring into her, looking deep, but not intimidatingly. "I was once like you," he said slowly, uncrossing his arms to rest his palms on the surface of his desk. "I felt like I had no control."_

" _I…" she stammered. What a personal observation. He'd never done that before. She flushed immediately._

" _I see how awkward social interactions are between you and the other students. I know you are a smart, talented young woman. You're just shy. You have no control over what you put out into the world, and I'm sorry to say, the world will eat you up for that one day. This is just high school. The rest of the people out there," he said, waving his hand around the room, "They're worse. I'm not saying this to upset you, Ana. What I'm trying to say, is I understand. I've been there. But someone helped me, and I'd like to do the same for you. Will you let me?"_

 _He'd said all the right things. She wanted to be confident, wanted to have control. And the offer to get it was too good to pass up._

" _Yes."_

That yes would change her whole life. She had no idea what she was agreeing to. But the way he spoke, the passion, the confidence… she wanted that. In that short speech he'd reached straight into gut and stirred up fears and desires that she'd carried all her life. She'd been won over in an instant. She trusted him. He'd been helping her for months now at school. And he was offering her something she desperately wanted—control over herself.

She'd met him the next day on a street a few blocks from the school after classes and he'd driven her to his home. She'd been nervous, almost backed out, but he'd convinced her with smooth words and wonderful promises that what he was going to offer her would change her life. He opened up to her, told her how he'd been a troubled teen who had been drinking and fighting all the time. His life was going downhill fast, but before he could completely ruin it, he met a woman who taught him control.

" _Please let me do the same for you, Ana. You've got the purest heart I've ever met. You deserve to be happy. Please, let me help you find yourself, and find happiness."_

Those were the words that had done it. He was right, she did not know herself. She felt like an empty body just floating through life, going through the motions. She had a little happiness, and that was in books, but that was a vicarious thrill. She, Anastasia Steele, was nothing, _no one_. She wanted to _be_ someone. She craved an identity. And he saw something in her. She wanted to be what he saw. That was the moment she became desperate to prove to him that he was right, that she could be somebody. She would do anything he asked, for _him_ , to bring _him_ happiness. She'd told him this, blurted it out like verbal diarrhea.

He'd grinned.

Submission.

She was born for it, he'd said.

He'd led her inside his home, and he'd explained his lifestyle of BDSM and what it did to help him.

Punishment.

That was his tool, to start. The sexual stuff, that came later, for them. Not long, only a couple of months. But in those first couple of months, he taught her control with punishment. He taught her control over her body, over her words, over everything, by punishing her when she failed at tasks he'd set up for her to do to become more socially acclimated. She would be punished for bad grades, tardiness, for every time she knocked over a book in class or tripped in the halls. Everything that made her the gawky awkward girl she was, was grounds for punishment. He said it all had to do with control, and she would see that soon enough. Her first task/lesson/punishment had been so simple, yet so powerful.

He'd forced her to read a paragraph from the text book aloud in class. That was it.

But she'd hesitated. Then stuttered three separate times during one measly paragraph.

That first punishment had been strictly verbal. It was just harsh words expressing his disappointment in her. _Disappointment_. The words, the concept had eaten at her. He was trying to help, and she had disappointed him at the first try. It made her feel horrible.

The next time, she'd stutter only once, and had read without hesitation. She'd improved. For him.

From there, there were countless situations, ranging from talking to strangers at the store, to initiating the request for classmates to be her partner for group activities, to asking a girl to hang out at the mall. He was always around, listening. If she stuttered through her speech, she got punished. If she gave up too easily, punished. As time went on, physical punishment was added. The first time, about three weeks after she'd first agreed to all of it, he'd done so because she'd skipped class. Ray had wanted to take her fishing, and even signed off on it. But Mr. Kennedy did not think fishing was a good enough reason to miss school. He said it was disrespectful to him, to the rest of the teaching staff, and detrimental to her education to miss school because of some recreational activity. That day was the first day he'd ever spanked her. It had been over her clothes, but none-the-less, it was a spanking. She'd been so embarrassed.

He'd been pleased that she'd accepted the punishment, and had offered up a sincere apology unprovoked. And she found that his happiness made her heart soar. That was the day she truly realized how much she truly loved pleasing him. She hadn't wanted to ever disappoint him again. She wanted to make him happy.

Then there was the day, about two months in, when she'd penned 'Ana Steele' across the track sign-up sheet, something she'd always wanted to do, but had always been too anxious to do it. He'd approached her after class, asking if she'd signed up. Immediately she'd tensed. Shit. She should have asked first. Eyes downcast, she admitted she had.

"Look at me," he insisted, his voice hard, like it was when he punished her. She did, and he was smiling. _Smiling._ "I'm so proud of you, Ana. You did something you wanted to do, something social, without needed to be told. That, my dear sweet girl, is control."

She'd beamed. He'd told her how beautiful her smile was, like he always did.

But this time, there was something different in his eyes. He moved toward her, cupped her cheeks in his hands, and he'd kissed her. Soft and sweet. He tasted like coffee and mint.

She'd loved it.

The sex started not long after.

From there, as they grew together, things shifted. Once sex was a part of the equation, and once she really gained confidence with her body and started to exhibit control over herself, things shifted to a more traditional Dom/dub situation with traditional expectations. Of course she wasn't allowed to date, she'd be punished for even talking to guys most of the time. He was pretty possessive of his 'little pet project' and he so often liked to call her. She had a few acquaintances at school, but no real friends. She'd expressed interest in attending college, but he said he had other plans, big plans, and he needed her help. As soon as she graduated, he quit teaching and started his own company, an idea he'd had for years. He asked her to help him, assist him, basically secretarial work. She said yes, of course, anything for him after all he'd done for her, and their lives just bloomed together from there. She was so busy with work and time sceneing with him that she didn't have time to think about the missed opportunities of friends and college. Her life was busy, and full, because he made it full.

She had never so much as thought of another man.

Until Christian Grey.

Her eyes fluttered closed at just the thought of his name. How could one man be so beautiful? He wore a suit like a top tier runway model. You couldn't see an inch of his body, yet you just knew it was amazing. He had those broad, masculine shoulder, long legs, slim torso, strong chest…. And his face! Holy shit, that face should be illegal. _Adonis_. He was like her own mental version of the Greek god of beauty. His likeness should be carved into a piece of marble and on display at a museum or something. And those eyes. God, his _eyes_! Were gray eyes even a _thing_? She'd never seen it before, but his eyes were like pools of mercury. That should have been her warning. He was dangerous, like mercury. Any exposure could be lethal. It certainly had been for her, she thought absently rubbing her still sore backside. The caning she'd gotten as punishment for being poisoned by those pools of mercury had been particularly harsh. But she'd learned her lesson. She would be steering clear of Mr. Christian Grey. She knew that the reality was, at least until things got settled with the merger, there was a chance of them meeting again whenever Scott had to meet with him. But she now knew better than to look at him or speak to him beyond simple, formal speech. Her devotion, her time, her body, her attraction, she, herself, all of her- it all belong to Scott. He'd earned every piece of her after everything he'd done to help her, after years of being the only person she truly trusted in this world. She owed him everything, and gave him everything, and would continue to do so because he was a good man, and a good Dom, and as his submissive, giving herself to him is she was meant to do.


	3. Chapter 3

_**CHRISTIAN**_

"Mr. Grey, I have the contracts that the lawyers just sent up for Greener Horizons, Inc. Would you like me to have them couriered over to their office?" Andrea's voice announced over the speaker at his desk.

Green Horizons, Inc. Scott Kennedy's company. Good. He'd been awaiting the papers to be drafted for a few days now. He was anxious to get everything signed and start incorporating the new technologies into his other businesses. Common procedure would be to have the papers couriered over just as Andrea suggested. But in a split second decision, Christian responded, "No, thank you Andrea. I'd like to pop into GHI myself this afternoon. I'll deliver the contracts personally then."

"Yes, sir," she said. "Your only free period this afternoon is at lunchtime."

"I will go then," he said, probably surprising her. Christian rarely did things like this, let alone during his lunch period. He never skipped meals. He had plenty of working lunches, but they always involved meeting at a restaurant or catering in. He never ran to other companies during his meal time. For a moment, he wondered why he was even doing it. He _had_ wanted to check out GHI, but there was no reason he couldn't do it another time. Deciding on a whim to do a pop in was out of character for him.

 _You know why you're doing it_ , a little voice told him in the back of his mind. _Four syllables. An-a-sta-sia._

Okay, yes. He hadn't really been able to keep the little brunette off of his mind. He did want to see if that pull he'd felt toward her before Kennedy snapped at her was a onetime thing or not. There was just something about her, something he couldn't dismiss even after she'd left his office.

Regardless, business came first right now, and he _did_ want these contracts signed asap, and he _did_ want to see what kind of building and equipment GHI was working with, see what morale was like now that the employees likely knew they were being bought out, so if he got to see Kennedy's pretty little PA as an added bonus, so what?

Christian exited the Audi, buttoning back up his suit jacket and nodded at Taylor as he held open the door. The two made their way into the moderately sized office building, Christian's face already scrutinizing the façade. A receptionist with overly fluttery eyelashes directed him to the fourth floor where GHI was located. He thanked her with a curt nod, taking in the dated wallpaper and carpets that dressed the entire building. Everything was outdated.

The elevator pinged as they reached their floor, the doors opening to reveal a small plaque across from them indicating the floor did belong to GHI. Christian entered the main doorway, approaching yet another receptionist with fluttery eyes and blushing cheeks.

"I'm here to see Scott Kennedy."

"One moment, sir," came her breathy reply as she picked up her phone and hit an extension button. "Ana, there's a man here looking for Mr. Kennedy." There was a pause, then her cheek flushed brighter. "I don't know. Hold on," she said, her eyes darting to Christian's in embarrassment. "What is your name, sir?"

"Christian Grey," he said, slightly agitated. He might fire Andrea on the spot if she ever called him to say 'a man' was looking for him instead of getting a name.

"Mr. Christian Grey," the receptionist repeated back into the phone. Another long pause, this time with the receptionist eyes clouding over with panic for a moment, then regret before she disconnected the call. "Mr. Grey, I'm afraid Mr. Kennedy is out to lunch at the moment. Your arrival was unexpected by his personal assistant. If you'd like to wait, she said he should be returning shortly. I can offer you a seat in our employee lounge if you'd like."

"Are you aware of who I am, Miss…." Christian led, since she hadn't introduced herself and had no name tag adorning her desk.

"Kites. Stacy Kites, sir," she said quickly. "And yes sir, Mr. Kennedy's PA just informed me that you are the CEO for GEH, the company that is buying out GHI."

"That is correct, Miss Kites," Christian said with a nod. "I would like to wait for Mr. Kennedy. I would like to hand deliver these contracts to him. However, while I wait, I'd like to have a look around. Would that be alright with you?"

"Yes…" she stammered. "Yes, of course, Mr. Grey. I can give you a tour," she said, standing quickly, smoothing herself out from her hair down to her skirt in one long motion.

"Thank you for the offer, Miss Kites, but I think I can manage. We wouldn't want to leave the reception desk unmanned, would we?"

"No, sir," she muttered, a mixture of chastisement and disappointment in her tone.

"Taylor, why don't you check out the security here," Christian suggested. "I am going to mingle with some of the employees."

"Sir," Taylor acknowledged, wandering off own the hallway to inspect the floor.

Christian walked confidently throughout the halls, nodding at random employees that he happened to cross paths with. Most looked at him with recognition, some stopping to introduce themselves while cloaked in awe at the sheer power he exuded. He didn't stop to speak with anyone for more than a quick handshake, however, because there was only one employee he was interested in finding at the moment.

And just like that, there she was. At the end of the hall, sitting behind a medium sized oak desk with neatly stacked and labeled piles of papers, sat Anastasia Steele, chewing on the end of a pen as she stared at her computer screen, briefly writing something down, then looking back at the screen again.

Straightening his posture just a tad bit more, he approached her with his usual graceful ease.

"Miss Steele," his deep voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her from her work until those big doe eyes were staring up at him in question. Realization washed over her in a second and she too straightened her posture.

"Mr. Grey," she said. "I'm sorry. Stacy was supposed to show you to the employee lounge until Mr. Kennedy returns from lunch. I can direct you over there. Would you like some coffee?" she spoke quickly but confidently, standing and motioning back the way he came to direct him to the aforementioned location.

"No thank you, Miss Steele. I would actually like to wait here, if you don't mind." He needed to spend some time near her to see if he could figure her out. Normally he was so good at reading people, it was a big reason he did so well in the business world. But when it came to her, she gave away nothing. She was very self-contained. He needed to find a way to breech that so he could get inside her mind and see what made her tick, so he could get to know her. He needed to figure out what it was about her that made her so damn appealing to him even when he hardly knew her. She was beautiful, sure, but he could sense so much more to her than that. And he was dying to get to know her.

She hesitated, standing at the side of her desk as she'd already started to walk away to direct him to the lounge. She froze, but recovered quickly, her professional face again dominating her inner struggle. "As you wish, Mr. Grey. You can have a seat in Mr. Kennedy's office while you wait."

"I'm fine here," he said, taking a seat in one of the old chairs set up against the wall across from her desk. She seemed to be mulling over something, before she let out a breath and nodded, taking her seat again. He noticed immediately that she was avoiding eye contact, and her voice seemed detached. He was getting none of the warmth from when they'd first set eyes on each other. He had hoped to regain that feeling if he could get to her without Kennedy around, since he had reacted so badly to them the last time. But she seemed to be operating as she had the moment Kennedy had snapped at her in his office.

He sat silently for a few minutes, eyeing her while attempting to appear as though he wasn't. He even pulled out his blackberry so he could pretend to be busy himself. He watched her go back to work, alternating between typing on her obviously ancient desktop computer and writing notes on a pad of paper with a cheap pen. He watched her face turn frustrated as she clicked heavily and rapidly on the mouse, a small aggravated sigh leaving her lips. Didn't she have an iPad to do her work? A laptop even? How could she work efficiently with such old equipment?

"Something the matter?" he asked, amused at her frustration. She was admittedly rather… cute when she was angry. Cute? Did he just think the word **cute**? _Christ._

She sent him a tight smile. "My computer just froze," she muttered, snapping the power button quickly in order to force a restart. "It does it all the time."

"How frustrating," he commented benignly. She sagged back in her chair, seemingly letting her guard down for a moment before she caught his eyes, then caught herself and sat upright once more. "Can I ask you some questions, Miss Steele? From an employee perspective?"

"Of course, Mr. Grey," she said, her eye flickering to his with a small, forced smile.

"Morale is very important to me, as a CEO. Can you tell me, honestly, how in the morale here? Do the employees enjoy their jobs? Do they respond well to Kennedy, and vice versa? Is there any upset about GEH acquiring the company?"

Ana's face settled back to its prior unreadable expression. Then, she met Christian's eyes head on. "Morale is important to Mr. Kennedy as well, Mr. Grey, and I can assure you that employees love working for him. Most of these people are like a family. So many of the people here are the original hires, who have worked tirelessly from day one, all trying to grow the company together. So when word got out that Mr. Kennedy was selling, I'd be lying if I said they weren't all nervous. It wasn't just about their jobs, either. This is tech that all of these people care about on a personal level, and they didn't want to see it squandered. But after some assurance from Mr. Kennedy himself, along with some of the employees digging into GEH's background, they are confident that you want this company because you believe in what we do here, that you want to make it flourish further. GEH also has a reputation of being a wonderful company to work for. So, as long as you truly do mean to keep on these employees as you have said, they aren't worried anymore. In fact, I believe most are excited at the opportunity of growth. They're actually quite thankful your company has given GHI this opportunity."

"Well I am glad to hear that, Miss Steele," he said, truly pleased by her words. "And Kennedy, the staff is pleased working under him? They know they will continue to work under me pretty much by name only, that he will continue to run the office as he seems fit? I know my reputation precedes me. I know the kind of emotions my name often evokes among my staff."

"Mr. Kennedy is a great boss and a great man. We are all grateful to have worked and to continue to work for him. And yes, your name and reputation precede you, but not in any negative sense. I'm not sure to what you were alluding with that, but the staff here is taken by you. We know you are firm, but so is Mr. Kennedy. It's kind of a requisite for the successful CEO. All the staff here sees is a dedicated man who is helping to grow the field they've chosen to dedicate their lives to, a man who is also notably philanthropic based off the generous donations he makes to the underprivileged worldwide. Trust when I say the staff here is quite enamored with you. We are eager to work hard under you as well," she said, though he noticed her cheeks blaze brightly the moment the sentence ended.

Her blush just did something for him. **She** just _did it_ for him. The air was suddenly charged again, practically snapping around them with its intensity. There was a palpable heat between them. He watched her pull her bottom lip into her mouth and bite down as her eyes shifted away from his and hit her desk. Fuck—what was she thinking about? And why did she look away? He hated when she looked away from him. All he wanted was to stare into her beautiful eyes and attempt to gain access to her mind.

"Miss Steele, I must be honest. The reason I asked about Kennedy and morale is because our last meeting left me a little confused. I felt like things were quite tense between you and I, and you and Mr. Kennedy after our introduction, and it left me worried about how he interacts with his employees. You seemed quite nervous and this concerns me. It is important to me that all of my employees are treated with respect. So I would just like to clarify one last time, are you sure you've had no issues working for him?" Christian asked. He watched her shift uncomfortably for a moment before she responded, her eyes still trained on her desk.

"I apologize if my demeanor left you confused. It was actually… _you_ who left me nervous. As said, your name looms large in our offices, and your reputation is larger than life. You were like a godsend to the people who work for the company because of what you represented for the future of the tech. Your name had been on so many lips over the past months, I'm afraid I found myself intimidated by you, sir. But I apologize for letting my personal nerves take control over my professional bearing. It's a grave error that I will assure you won't happen again."

"I intimidate you?" he asked, his eyebrows high in true surprise. Then his face turned contrite. "I apologize. I had no idea." Her eyes found his briefly, seemingly surprised at his surprise. There was something in them, something he couldn't decipher. Guilt? Shit, why was he having such a hard time reading this woman? Could she really have been intimidated by him? He had been so convinced it was Kennedy who made her uncomfortable. He hadn't even considered that it was _him_. He tried to recall exactly the way the details played out that day. He thought they'd shared a… spark. But maybe not? Maybe she'd been uncomfortable by his attention and maybe Kennedy has been indignant _for_ her, not _to_ her. No, that didn't sound right. He was sure… but… maybe?

"It was nothing you did," she was quick to explain away him being at fault. "You were very kind. It's just, jitters I guess. I've only ever worked for Mr. Kennedy. Having a new boss, especially _the_ Christian Grey, it's nerve-wracking. I hope I didn't offend you."

That sounded pretty genuine, but he still had an inkling she wasn't telling him the truth. He gave a reassuring smile. "If an offense come out of the truth, better it is that the offense come than that the truth be concealed," Christian said offhandedly. It was a quote he'd read somewhere years ago and it had always stuck with him. He'd rather be told a harsh truth than be lied to. Christian Grey _loathed_ being lied to.

So quietly he almost missed it, he heard Ana whisper something that sounded like 'test'.

"Excuse me?" Christian asked, unsure if he was meant to hear it at all.

She cleared her throat her eyes meeting his. "Tess. That was a quote from Tess of the d'Urbrvilles by Thomas Hardy."

Christian couldn't help but smile. "Is it? I've been saying that quote for forever, but I had forgotten where I'd first heard it. Impressive, Miss Steele."

She blushed again, shrugging it off like it was no big deal. "Not really. I just love literature," she said dismissively.

"Yes, well my sister if your age and the only books I think she's read in the last five years are ones about adolescent vampires," Christian said with mock irritation at his baby sister. He had high expectations for Mia, but she just wasn't driven like he'd been, or even like his brother Elliot had been when it came to a career path. But he had such a soft spot for her, and in the end it didn't matter much.

A giggle escaped Ana's lips, and Christian was sure the heavens had opened up and angels were playing that sound from the most finely crafted instruments in the universe. God, it was his new favorite sound. It was official, this wasn't some fluke at their first meeting. There was definitely something about her that he wanted to get to know better. He just needed to figure out if she felt the same thing he was feeling.

"I always wanted to do something with books. Editing, publishing… something like that," Ana said softly, her eyes unfocused, letting Christian know she was speaking from the heart, her guard down for the moment. He wanted to talk full advantage.

"So what led you to working here instead of going to college to study for that career path?"

And just like that, the shutters were down. Gone was her soft smile, her at-ease expression. Back was the passive look and empty eyes. Damn it.

He had no time to dwell on it as his attention was then pulled to the sound of shoes approaching on the cheap linoleum flooring. He looked up to see Scott Kennedy strutting toward the office. Christian then watched Ana's eyes widen in a panic, and in an instant she was typing furiously on her computer.

"Mr. Grey," Scott said, as he closed the distance between them, his tone conveying benign surprise, but Christian was sure he saw a fleeting look of biting ferocity in his eyes scanned from Christian to Ana, pinning her under his intense gaze for a moment before gliding back to Christian where a pleasant smile set on his face. "I apologize, I wasn't aware we had a meeting today or I would have never left the building. Obviously my PA—" he started, but Christian cut him off.

"No apology necessary. It wasn't Ana's fault. It was an unscheduled stop and I do apologize for the drop in. I just got the contracts back from the lawyers and decided to drop them off myself so I could have a chance to take a look at the building personally."

"Well, we are lucky to host you for your visit then. Has _Ana_ been accommodating for you during your wait, Mr. Grey?" he asked, the snide way he said her name forcing Christian to realize his mistake that he'd referred to her in such a personal manner.

"Yes, of course, very," he replied, not wanting to give Kennedy any reason to think Ana had done anything wrong.

"Yes, I'm sure she was," came, what Christian interpreted as a slightly condescending reply. Christian was thoroughly confused now. Was he reading Kennedy all wrong? Normally he prided himself on his ability to see people, to really read them, but with Kennedy he wasn't sure. He tried to detect hints of his true emotions in his eyes, but Kennedy was obviously very guarded. He put out there what he wanted people to see, and he was obviously very good at controlling himself. He was the first person ever that Christian just wasn't sure how to read. Between the pair of them, Kennedy and Ana had his head spinning. What was it about these two that had him losing his keen eye? Was this just the boss/assistant dynamic these two shared? Surely if it really bothered Ana she would quit. Maybe she was just used to it, like Andrea. Shit, Christian knew he could be sharp and tetchy with his own PA. But he didn't think he'd ever been anything like _this_ with her, had he?

"Please join me in my office, Mr. Grey."

He was only in there a few minutes, all of which Kennedy spent as the jovial, personable man Christian had come to know. He was funny and witty, thanking Christian with genuine appreciativeness for making the stop in at GHI. He promised to have his lawyer review the final draft and get the signed copy back to GEH before end of business day tomorrow. With a firm hand shake and a sincere statement expressing excitement about the merger, Christian stood to take his leave. Scott rounded his desk to follow.

"Don't let me further disrupt your day, Scott. I can see myself out," Christian dismissed.

"No, I insist," Kennedy said, his tone noticeably cooler than the moment prior as he walked Christian to the doorway where he halted, looming large, eyeing Ana the moment she came into his view.

Deciding not to risk further exacerbating the situation between them, Christian decided it was best to forgo a goodbye to the brunette in order to avoid causing her any more trouble at work. So he exited the main doorway without so much as a glance back at the pair.

As he retraced his steps back down the hallway, he found Taylor waiting for him at the end.

"This place is a security nightmare, Mr. Grey. They are working on way too powerful of stuff for it to be shoved in this little building. I could install a camera system, but the floor plan has so many odd angles I would have to have dozens of camera's installed. Not to mention it's outdated. Nothing is up to the standards you set for GEH. Barney would have to confirm, but even I know they need a whole overhaul of their electronics systems."

"I noticed," Christian agreed. "I'll call Elliot to see about redoing the building and Barney about refitting their operating systems. Or maybe I'll just move them to Grey House. We have room on the twelfth floor, don't we?"

"I believe so, sir. I'll make a note to have the building manager check to make sure it's enough space and reevaluate the lease they have here."

Christian just nodded. It truthfully did make good business sense to just move the company to GEH as long as they could provide the appropriate amount of space. It would cut down on time and costs that would be required to bring this place up to standard. And they'd be able to work more closely with other sects of GEH that were going to utilizing their technology. And yet, those weren't the thoughts that were in Christian's head when he thought about moving GHI to GEH.

His mind was focused on how he would be much more likely to run into Ana if they worked under the same roof. It would give him ample time and opportunity to keep trying to chip away at the shield she had up. He'd gotten her to open up a little when they'd discussed Tess. He could do it again.

But then again, he needed to find a way to talk to her when there was no risk of Kennedy popping up. That seemed to shut her down each time he was getting a glimpse past her self-containing walls. He needed to just talk to her a little, spend a little time with her and see if he could figure out what it was that had him so intrigued by her. And, truthfully, he wanted to push _her_ to be equally intrigued by _him_. He needed to _woo_ her to get her to open up, then maybe he would feel more comfortable asking her to actually go out with him. Because as he saw it now, if he asked, she'd turn him down flat before the words could even finish leaving his mouth. It had been awhile since he'd 'courted' a woman, really _tried_ with one. Normally with smile and a nod he had who he wanted in his bed. But, as divinely attractive as she was, he was interested in actually getting to know her. And the opportunity he had to meet a woman who did that to him was so rare, that he wasn't giving up that fight. Come hell or high water, he was going to find a way into the good graces of Miss Anastasia Steele.

 **A/N : Before anyone asks, I'm almost done with the next chapter of Guilty Conscious. But I'm a few chapters ahead on this story, so I wanted to post another here.**


	4. Chapter 4

_**ANA**_

It had all happened so fast. One day, they were a small little company privately owned by Scott Kennedy, showing up daily at their little office she'd become quite fond of, because it had been representative of everything Scott had done to build this company from nothing. Years ago, after working from his home no longer served their best interests, she and Scott had toured multiple business locations in an effort to find a place for the expanding company. He didn't have too much extra money to spend, because the company was still just getting on its feet, but in order to take the next step, they had to have a place for him to hold meetings, a place to house the growing staff. Most of what had been in their price range had been awful- either tiny, run down, or in a location that would make the company appear unfavorable before anyone even had a chance to walk in the door.

Then one day, when she was doing the research to find them a place, this one popped up on the market. It was perfect. Nothing glamorous. Only slightly dated. But the location was ideal, and the money was manageable. She'd jumped on it, scheduling them a viewing immediately before running it by Scott. They'd gone as soon as the realtor had responded, and Scott was as swayed by it in person as she'd been on paper. He'd been ecstatic. He'd told her over and over how proud it was of her for her initiative. They'd made an offer immediately, and the moment it was accepted and Scott had the keys in hand, he'd taken her there, telling her he wanted to tour it again now that it was his. He'd described to her in great detail his plans for the building, room by room, where people would go, both current employees and the ones he expected to hire into new departments as the company grew.

Touring the building with keys in hand was a culmination of all the hard work they'd done since the day he quit teaching and asked her to stand with him and build GHI. It made GHI _real_. When they'd reached the office he deemed as his own, he told her he was going to reward her for all of her hard work. He'd pulled tools from his playroom that he'd obviously hidden in his briefcase for this moment. A moment he'd planned for the two of them. A moment to celebrate and remember this day, this feeling. He'd flogged her for pleasure, teased her with vibrators, his mouth, and his fingers, then finally he'd fucked her to orgasm right on the floor in the middle of the office. It was a memory she enjoyed, because he'd been so unabashedly generous and happy that day.

And now, they stood here, just outside the sleek and modern building named Grey House. It was beautiful and incredibly efficient, but lacked the personality of their old office. She'd always know that one day GHI would be so big that they'd have to move on, with or without GEH attached to them. But still, she'd loved that office. It was home. But this place was… cold. Impersonal. It made their old building look like a rundown hole in the wall. And she hated that. She hated that this place tainted that one. She hated that moving them here told the world that what they had been, what they'd worked so hard for, wasn't good enough.

With a small sigh, Ana adjusted her purse on her shoulder and walked in the main entrance. The bustle around the main floor was borderline chaotic. There were _so many_ people. Her eyes darted around, landing on each person, one by one, all dressed impeccably. She hadn't really noticed the last time they'd come here, but she sure noticed now. All the women around her were either in tailored suits or other pristine, professional work clothes. Perfect hair and makeup. Clearly high-end accessories- purses, shoes, jewelry.

And there she was, wearing literally the nicest outfit she owned, designer just like them, but she still felt like she was in hand-me-downs in comparison to these beautiful women. Scott had always taken care of her. It was part of his job as her Dom, and it was something he took pride it. As GHI had really started to make money, he'd instantly begun lavishing her with expensive gifts. He bought her jewelry, bought her a new car, paid for visits to an exclusive salon, bought her designer clothes. He was always buying her these things to try and make her feel confident and beautiful. But, truthfully, they rarely did. At the end of the day, she knew she could never compare with women like these. They all looked like Stepford wives turned business women, and no matter how many beautiful outfits Scott bought her, she always felt like she looked like a dowdy little girl. Too skinny, hair a dull, boring mousy brown. Her face didn't wear makeup well. She just didn't fit in with this kind of crowd. She felt her shoulders sink down and in as she felt embarrassment creep from her chest out. No matter what she did, she could never compare to other women.

Until she felt a strong hand take hold of her arm just above the elbow. She looked up, her eyes locking with Scott's. He arched an eyebrow so slightly anyone else would have missed it, but to her, it was as if he was speaking clear words. _Stand tall. Eyes up. Chin high. Confidence, Ana. As long as you're confident, you can fit in anywhere._

So with a deep, cleansing breath, she pulled up straighter, raised her head, and walked into the building. The receptionist, who she'd expected to give her a look of disapproval, made eye contact and smiled. She let her eyes run over Scott, a look of appreciation on her face as her smile become somewhat less friendly and more… carnal.

"Welcome to Grey House. How can I help you today?"

"I'm Anastasia Steele and this is Scott Kennedy. We are starting work in this building today. We were told to report to the front desk first."

"Are you from Greener Horizon's Inc?" she asked, already turning to rifle through a stack of envelopes on her desk.

"Yes, ma'am," Ana responded.

"Yes, right here," she said, pulling two of the envelopes from the pile. "Steele and Kennedy. These are just some packets of information about the building. Maps, locations for breakrooms, conference rooms, what departments are located on what floors, etc, until you get accustomed to your new surroundings. You will be stationed on the twelfth floor yourselves. If you take these," she said, handing a paper to each of them, "to that door over there labeled 'Security Suite' you will be issued your name badges, which will allow you to access the various locked doors as well as the elevators. This paper tells the security guys what level of clearance your badge gives access to. We have keyless access to everything here at GEH. Anything you need to access can be done with your badge, as long as you have clearance to do so. Full information about you can and cannot access is in your individual packets."

Ana's eyes flitted over the paperwork, seeing a long list of things her badge would access and what it wouldn't each location clearly delineated with a 'Yes' or 'No' to make it obvious. She had full access to their entire floor, as well as to the floors containing HR and accounting, but not to floors that strictly held other business entities like their own. And not to the top floor, which held the offices of Mr. Grey and a 'Ms. Bailey'. But the paper stated that in the event that she needed to access any other places, she could be granted temporary access by said location for a pre-determined amount of time, to be entered by the staff of that location itself. I.E. If she, for example, was required to be present for a meeting with Mr. Grey, she needed to contact Ms. Andrea Parker, his PA, who would give her temporary access for the scheduled meeting time. It all honestly seemed very convoluted to her, but she supposed there must be a good reason for security being so strict.

After going to the security office and getting their badges, Scott led the way to the elevator bank. As the doors across from them slid open and they stepped on, she couldn't help but notice how excited Scott was. He wasn't like her, feeling the sadness and longing for their old, familiar building. He was as thrilled to be here as he was that day they stepped into the old place. Scott was always look up and out for the next bigger and better thing. He didn't live in the nostalgia of the past. This was what he wanted. If it wasn't, he never would have sold to GEH to begin with. This was the access to the opportunities he desired. And Ana knew she had to get on board with that mentality. Scott would not be happy to see her moping for the familiar. The familiar meant complacency. And he'd spent years trying to pull her from that mindset. Complacency was a haven for her introverted self, and Scott would punish her if he saw her relying on that for comfort. She didn't want to upset him on this big day.

So she forced herself to try and feel the excitement as the doors opened and they stepped onto the twelfth floor. A sign greeted them, one that said **'Greener Horizons Inc.'** then smaller- **'a division of Grey Enterprise Holding, Inc.'** The sign had a new logo, more modern and sleeker than their old one.

"Don't you love it?" Scott asked, his grin wide. "Grey suggested a makeover of the logo, and his people gave me a few options. I thought this one was perfect."

Ana looked up at him, a smile plastered on her face. "It's great."

She watched his smile falter a little bit. Shit. He saw right through her. Of course he did. He always did.

"Come, Ana," he said, his voice stern, no longer holding the giddy excitement from a moment ago.

She followed immediately. Scott had already been aware of the layout of the space since he'd had to approve where all the sections of employees would be. So he knew exactly where is office was. They walked past reception, past other offices and cubicles, conference rooms and 'think-tank' rooms- an important part of the company's whole process. Finally he led her to their space- but he halted for a moment before slowly making his way to the desk outside the office bearing his name. On said desk was a large arrangement of various flowers. He strode to it, yanking the card from the envelope and reading it quickly before tossing it at her.

She fumbled slightly at the unexpected move, but managed to trap it between her arm and her body. She read it too.

 _Welcome to Grey House._

 _-Christian Grey_

She looked up to see Scott absolutely seething and she had no idea why. But she knew better than to ask. She would let him speak first. Scott always got to speak first and last.

"Why is it that the CEO of the company is sending you flowers Anastasia?"

Sending _her_ flowers? These weren't for her! They weren't addressed to her. They were a welcoming gesture. Probably not even done by Mr. Grey. More likely done by his assistant, and meant for the whole company. Not _her_. But lord knew she couldn't say any of that to him. It would be insubordinate. What should she say? What _could_ she say? She had to say _something_.

She felt him step closer, the anger radiating off of him. "I asked you a question, Ana," he said, the low vibration of his voice thick in the air. Shit.

"Sir," she said, her voice a little breathy from fear, "I don't believe these were for me, sir. They aren't addressed to anyone in particular. I believe they are for the whole company. A friendly gesture. Likely a routine move from his secretary. I've sent similar arrangements to corporations we've worked with in the past, sir."

"They were on your desk, Ana. _Your_ desk. Not the front reception desk. _Your_ desk. That means someone was told to walk all the way back here to place them in this specific spot. That was intentional. These are for you."

"Sir," she started, but he interrupted her.

"He wants you Ana. He wants you, but you are mine."

"Yes, sir," she said automatically.

"Yes, sir, what? Yes, sir, he wants you?"

"No, sir. I was agreeing that I belong to you, sir," she said, panic in her voice.

"That's right, Anastasia. You belong to _me_."

"I'll get rid of the flowers, sir," she said, trying to show him that she didn't even care about the damn flowers. Even if they were for her, she didn't ask for them, didn't want them.

"No, you won't," he said, his voice deceptively soft. "In fact you will not move them an inch. You will leave them exactly where they are, in the middle of your desk." He stood a little distance away from her, which was unusual. Normally when he spoke to her like this, he did it with his hard body pressed against hers dominantly. "I was blind before, but I see now that we had fallen into quite an easy routine for a while there, Ana. We had a long run of very few harsh punishments because life had been stasis for years. But Christian Grey seems to have changed everything. You affect him, and he affects you. And the fact that you're allowing him to do so is proving that I have been too lax with you for too long. That changes today. Things are going to be different from now on Ana. Until you can remember your place in this arrangement, the Dom you knew will be gone, replaced with a Dom you'll wish you'd never met. And you have no one to blame but yourself."

Ana had stopped breathing, afraid to move. Scott was right, Christian Grey was ruining everything. She'd liked things the way they were between them. She didn't want them to change. She wanted to argue, but she knew that would only add to his anger right now, so she just remain still and silent, eyes down, waiting to see what he did or said next.

"There are cameras out here, but not in my office. In exactly two minutes, I want you to meet me in there. When you enter, you will close the door, then open your blouse. You will pull your breasts from the cups of your bra, then bring your nipples to attention with you index and middle fingers. Then you will hike up your skirt to your waist, pull your panties down to your mid thighs, then turn around and place both hands on the door and bend forward. I am going to fuck you. You will be still and silent. You will not come. I will come in you. You will pull your panties back up, fix your bra, and redo your shirt. You will not use the restroom. You will go out there and work your full day with me still inside of you. Then every time you look up and see those flowers on your desk, you will think about my cum inside of you, and remember that you are mine."

XXX

Ana shifted uncomfortably in front of the coffee pot, the feeling of her sodden underwear driving her as close to madness as she'd ever been. It was so busy today. So much to set up, to get in order. The office was chaotic, buzzing with excitement as the staff became accustomed to their new surroundings, their new company issued laptops, iPad's, and other state of the concept equipment provided in the think-tank and development rooms for them to make the most of their abilities in creating new tech. It was impressive, even she had to admit, and she had no idea what the equipment was truly capable of.

Not only was everyone thrilled with the new work space, but they were over the moon about everything else that came with being a part of GEH. Working for Scott had provided with a lot. He gave them the time, space and freedom to work to provide the world with the tech they loved. The only thing lacking was the financial capital to take their work to this level. Scott always gave them as much as he could, but it he couldn't help that he was limited by financial constraints, and the staff always knew and appreciated that. They were thankful for every dollar he did sink into their ideas, and worked diligently to make the most of it for him. But now, with just the snap of his fingers, Christian Grey swooped in and handed everything they ever dreamed of to them on a silver platter. They were like kids in a candy store. There was so much happening…

…And all she could think of was her wet panties. Scott had been right. Every time her eyes landed on the flowers, she thought of him between her thighs in his office. She'd gone so far as to turn her chair, resting her laptop on her legs while she set up it up, but still the overpowering scent of the flowers filled her nose with every breath, and she found herself still focusing on the unyielding dampness between her legs. She'd gotten so sick of it, she'd snapped, and left the office in search of coffee, which she didn't even _like_.

And so there she stood, looking at the coffee pot, trying to figure out how the hell to use it. Shit, even the coffee pot was some kind of space age technology.

"How are you enjoying the new space?"

The voice startled her, causing her to jump, her hand over her heart as it raced momentarily in her chest.

"Mr. Grey," she muttered, realizing who was standing behind her. Like, _right_ behind her.

"Sorry," he chuckled, "I didn't mean to scare you." He took a step to the side, leaning his hip against the counter.

"It's fine," she dismissed, turning back to the coffee pot so she didn't have to look at him.

"Did you get the flowers I sent?" he asked. He sent them? _He_ really sent them, not his assistant? He'd been honest when she told Scott she didn't think he'd done it himself. She'd have bet money that he hasn't even known it was done at all.

"The bouquet for the office? Yes, they were waiting on my desk this morning. It was a nice welcoming gesture. Thank you," she said with all the professional grace she could muster.

"They weren't for the office," he said, leaning in to whisper and punctuating his sentence with a conspiratorial wink when he resumed his original position again. "I sent them for you to replace those awful fake ones on your desk."

" _You_ sent them? To me? Personally?" she practically squeaked. She needed him to clarify that she'd heard that correctly.

"I did," he said with a little smirk. "It was addressed to you from me, was it not?"

She shook her head. "It was signed your name. But it wasn't addressed to anyone."

"It wasn't? Hmm…," he said, with a look of confusion on his face, "Maybe not the note itself, but the envelope was addressed to you. I remember writing it," he said, with certainty. He'd _handwritten_ the freaking note? Wait—envelope? She didn't remember- Shit! Scott had opened it! _He_ had seen that it was addressed to her. No wonder he felt such a need to prove who she belonged too. Scott had gotten increasingly possessive over the years, that was for sure. Though she did wonder why she hadn't shown her the envelope in order to prove he was right, rather than let her stand there and deny herself as Mr. Grey's intended recipient.

Either way, the last thing she needed was to be here, in a room with Mr. Grey, discussing any of this. She had no idea what to even say to him. Flowers! Seriously! A man had _never_ sent her flowers before. And it could only mean trouble that _this_ man had done so. Her boss. Her boss's boss. Her Dom's boss. Shit. Why did he even do it? He couldn't truly be interested in her, could he? Look at him! He was… gorgeous. And successful and charming and seemingly genuinely nice. What would someone like _that_ want with someone like **her**? She was so out of her element here. She felt her heart speed up and her breathing shallow. Panicky. She was starting to feel panicky. She needed to get out of here.

"Excuse me, Mr. Grey, I have to get back to work," she said quickly, desperate to get out of the suddenly small room and away from him.

 _ **CHRISTIAN**_

"Stop," he insisted as he caught her arm before she should flee. The second he touched her, she came to a halt, facing away from him. He was sure any second she would bolt, but as he waited in silence, she stayed stalk still and silent. She seemed very lost in thought, and her eyes were almost… panicky.

"Ana?" he spoke softly trying to pull her attention to him. No luck though. He rounded her body so he was now standing in front of her. "Ana," he said again, imploring her. Still nothing. It was frustrating, Normally women were falling all over him at any sign of interest, any modicum of attention. He would pay a sizeable amount of his fortune to even just cut the amount of unwanted female attention he got in a day by half. But why, now, when he wanted that attention, was this woman fighting it? Could she not feel between them what he did?

"Ana look at me," he insisted this time, his voice strong and demanding like when he was in the boardroom. And like he'd said some secret magic work, those baby blues snapped to him immediately. He tried to read her but he couldn't. Her look said she was receptive to him at this moment, almost like she was awaiting instruction from him or something. But other than that, she was giving him nothing, and it was confusing him. Regardless, he knew what he wanted, even if he didn't know what she wanted. And being the master of his universe had made him a man who didn't hesitate when it came to trying to obtain what he desired most. "I want you to have dinner with me," he said firmly. He watched her face closely, hoping to see the inkling of happiness, excitement- something in her eyes at the mention of going out with him, but instead he was met with a flicker of panic before her mask slipped back on.

"A business dinner, sir?" she asked, almost confidently. Almost. But he detected the slight quake to her voice, giving away the fact that she already knew that this was no invite to discuss business.

"No, Anastasia," he said slowly. " **Not** a business dinner."

"Mr. Grey—"

"Christian," he insisted, his tongue swiping his bottom lip as let his eyes wonder her body for a moment. She was dressed so modestly in a black pencil skirt that hit just at the knee and a light blue button down that was done up all the way except to the top button. Even his staff at GEH showed more skin than this, and he had a strict dress code. Regardless, she looked beautiful and the more she covered, the more he found himself fantasizing about every inch of skin he could _un_ cover.

"Mr. Grey," she said, her voice more breathy. She looked about to break, he almost had her.

"Ana?" His and Ana's head both snapped to the doorway just as a middle aged redheaded woman stepped to the threshold. She looked at the pair oddly for a moment. They were close, still, but Christian had managed to put a little bit of space between them as she'd rounded the door frame. "Scott's looking for you."

Ana nodded. "I'm coming. Thanks Megan," she said with a smile.

Megan turned and left, and Ana was quick to try and follow. Christian caught her arm again. "You didn't answer my question. Dinner? Tonight, perhaps?"

"No, Mr. Grey. I am not available for dinner tonight or any night. Now please, I need to see what Mr. Kennedy needs." Her eyes once again never met his, and a moment later, he was standing in the twelfth floor break room all alone.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: A little bit shorter one this time, but I had to cut it off where it felt right.**

 _ **ANA**_

He'd sent the flowers. To her. Personally. Hell, forget the flowers! He'd asked her out on a _date_. And now… **this**.

She scooted closer in order to run her fingertips over the cover of the book which sat on the coffee table in front of her. She still couldn't believe it was really there, in her apartment, in her direct possession.

A first edition print of Tess of the d'Urbervilles. Slowly she lifted the cover, the fingers of her right hand delicately running the length of the first page, like it might disintegrate beneath her touch. Quickly she snapped the book shut and shoved it away from her.

 _ **For Anastasia**_

 _From Christian_

That was all the little card had said, the print noticeably darker on her name, like he had traced over it more than once. It was a distinct message. These were _for_ her _from_ him. Just like the flowers.

Fuck.

What the hell was she supposed to do now? If Scott found out about this… God she didn't even want to think about it. She'd thought the orgasm denial coupled with the cum soaked panties on her first day at GEH had been punishment enough for being on the receiving end of Mr. Grey's affections via flowers, but she'd been wrong. That had just been an appetizer to the punishment she'd faced.

Her ass still felt raw and that was days ago. He'd tied her hand to her feet, caned her three times, then left her like that for an unknown amount of time. It had felt like hours, her legs were so tired when he'd finally returned. She'd hoped that was the end of the punishment, but instead he'd spanked her thirty-seven times over the cane marks, one for each flower she'd received. When had he even stopped to count them? And they were harsh spanks too. Worse than any she could remember in a while, maybe ever. Her legs felt like jelly and her ass like it was on fire by the time he was done. She was still sleeping on her stomach as a result, and work had been barely bearable to sit through.

She didn't even want to know what would happen if he knew about the date. Or these books. The date, that was intangible. There was no reason he would ever find out Christian had asked. But the books- he could see them. He could see them and he would know they were a gift. He knew Ana didn't own anything like this. They had to be expensive- priceless even! And there was an implication that came with them. The fact that Christian gave her such a personal gift left the impression that he _knew_ her. Scott would want to know how he knew one her biggest loves was literature, and she doubted he would accept that it came up in just a few sentences of casual conversation, even it was the truth.

She was screwed.

With her head in her hands, she sighed.

Her dinging phone brought her attention away from her inner turmoil for a moment.

 **-Dinner tonight?**

The number was unknown. But coming within ten minutes of the delivery of these books to her front door? She knew exactly who it was.

Was he trying to bribe her into a date? Bribe her with extravagant gifts?

God, he was making her life with Scott so much harder and she couldn't even tell him why. She couldn't tell him that he was getting her in trouble with Scott, because that would reflect badly on Scott. He couldn't know that she and Scott were involved in any way, and the only reason her receiving flowers from another man should upset her _boss_ would be if there was some more intimate connection between them. And she couldn't come out and tell Scott that that Christian was pursuing her in hopes that he would put a stop to it. First and foremost, he would go ballistic. Secondly, it's not like he could really do anything about it anyway. One time, one of the other employees named Jacob Stevens had been hounding her for a date. Ana told Scott, who, as the boss, had called Jacob into his office and set him straight, telling him he had a policy against interoffice dating. But he couldn't do that here. Christian was **his** boss too. Hell, he was _the_ boss. He couldn't instate a no-dating rule. Those were Christian's rules to make. Scott couldn't walk into the CEO's office and request he stop trying to date his assistant.

 _*ding*_ Her phone again.

 **-Say yes.**

Phone in hand, she debated not responding, but decided she needed to put her big girl panties on and take care of this herself. It was better for all involved if she nipped this in the bud right now.

 **-As I said before, I can't. Thank you, but no thank you.** There. Polite and professional, but crystal clear.

 **-Tomorrow night then?** She groaned. Not so crystal clear. Unless he just didn't want to listen, which she suspected was the case.

 **-Not any night, Mr. Grey. Again, thank you, but no thank you.**

 **-Did you not like your gift?** She narrowed her eyes at the text. Was he toying with her? Purposely trying to get under her skin? It was aggravating. It was obvious she was trying to avoid talking to him, but he wasn't giving up. Flowers, the book, now text messages all sent to her without any reciprocation of interest on her part. And he obviously knew the book had been delivered already, even though it was _just_ delivered. Come to think of it, that delivery man did not look like a delivery man. He was surely no worker from FedEx. Did the package even have postage? She reached for the wrapping. Nope. That meant this was hand delivered from someone he knew. How the hell did he know where she lived?

 **-How did you get my address? And my phone number, for that matter?**

 **-You work for my company Ana. Believe it or not, your address and phone number are in your file.** The audacity of this man to look into her personnel file to get this information!

 **-That seems like a gross misuse of employee information Mr. Grey**.

 **\- ;)**

Wow. A winky face? He was just going to dismiss the fact that he'd basically invaded her personal boundaries by accessing and using information intended for work purposes with a _winky face_? Before she could even being to come up with a response to that, he texted again.

 **-Did you not like the gift, Ana?** Unbelievable.

 **-The point is moot, as I cannot accept it, Mr. Grey. How would you like it returned?** And here laid a big problem. She needed to get rid of it, but it wasn't exactly like she was able to walk into GEH and hand it back to him. Scott would surely notice, and then there would be hell to pay. But what else could she do? No return address on the label, obviously.

 **-Moot?** She tried to pull back the smile that formed on her lips when she read his text.

 **-Yes, MOOT, Mr. Grey.** Impossible man.

 **-I'm sorry to hear that Ana. Maybe we can arrange for you to give it back to me then. Say, tonight? I can pick you up at 7 and you can return it to me at Canlis?** And damn it if she wasn't full-fledged smiling now. She hadn't seen that coming, and the idea was preposterous. For one, if he were to come to her place in order to pick her up as he suggested, she could just hand the book over at the door before shutting it in his face. They didn't need to go out to dinner for her to hand it to him over a table. But he knew that. Obviously. This wasn't about returning the book. This was about him trying to get her to agree to dinner using his stupid charm and wit, and damn it to hell if that charisma he wielded so well wasn't making her smile at this moment.

 **-I don't even know what to say to you, Mr. Grey.** She typed with a shake of her head and a sigh. Damn him for being so… _him_. She could even picture the little smirk on his face while he typed that text, anticipating her reaction to it. It bothered her that she barely knew the man, yet she was imaging the mischievous look that would have been adorning his face during this interaction. She picked the same one from when he conspiratorially leaned forward to inform her that the flowers _were_ for her personally.

She set her phone down when a knock sounded at her door. Who the hell could that be? No one ever came here except Scott, and she knew it wasn't him. He was in Portland for the evening attending a business meeting with the WSU farming division, something Mr. Grey had arranged for him.

Distracted by the fact that Mr. Grey had not texted her back yet, she wandered to her door, half listening for the ping of her phone. She twisted the bolt lock and pulled the door open, her eyes widening at the sight of Mr. Grey himself standing before her.

He stood in her doorway in dark blue jeans and a medium tone gray light sweater with the sleeves rolled halfway up his muscular forearms. His hip was cocked to the side, leaning his weight against her door frame, his arms crossed neatly over his chest. His cooper hair was tousled effortlessly, and he had that smirk, the same smirk she'd imaged just moments ago, plastered across his obscenely handsome face.

She stood, just staring at him. He was here. At her apartment. She wanted to be angry, offended that he would repeatedly keep invading her privacy like this. But with him standing across from her, looking like _that_? All she felt was her heart speed up.

Slowly he uncrossed his arms then stepped forward, forcing her on instinct to step back. He crossed the threshold into her apartment, speaking as he reached behind him blindly, yet still managed to catch the door with precision and close it without looking. "I know what you can say to me, Ana," he said, the tenor of his voice low and smooth. She raised her eyebrows in response, still unable to find her voice. He was in her apartment. _In_ it.

"You could say, 'Thank you for the gift, Christian. I loved it and will happily accept it.'" he said taking another step forward. Again she stepped back, but this time she felt the edge of her end table graze the back of her legs. "Then you could say, 'Yes, Christian, I would love to go to dinner with you.'" A half step forward and he was now so close she could smell him- that super masculine scent of who-knows-what. Cologne, shampoo, body wash? She wasn't sure. But it was… consuming.

"Say it," he whispered.

"I can't," she managed to push out, but the words felt heavy in her throat and came out in a rush of air.

"Why?" he asked, a small smile on his face, but his eyes betrayed a different emotion. Hurt? No, there was no way this Greek god would be hurt by getting turned down by someone as meaningless as she. It was more likely just wounded pride that someone so meaningless was saying no. At this point, she was likely just a game to him. Once she agreed and he'd won, the appeal would no longer be there.

"I just can't, Mr. Grey. And the books, I appreciate the gesture. It's very thoughtful but—"

"I want you to have to books Ana. Please keep them, even if you won't have dinner for me. They were just sitting in my library, and I didn't even know it until I went looking after our conversation the other day. I had no idea I had the first editions. That's how little it meant to me. It would mean so much more to you. They should belong to someone who will truly cherish them. Please keep them."

She felt the confliction overtake her. She wanted them. Of course she wanted them. They were amazing. And he was correct when he said she would cherish them. Truly she would, but she couldn't very well—

"Please keep them, Ana. Please," he said softly.

Oh God, that look in his eyes. That pleading, honest look on his handsome face.

"Okay." Okay? _Okay_?! Had she just agreed to keep such an extravagant gift from another man? A gift that would get her ass so beat if Scott ever found out about it? Why the hell had she said okay? Oh—oh look at his face now. Oh my God, that grin. Damn it, why did he have to be so… Jesus. "Thank you, Mr. Grey." Breathy. Was that her voice? That voice was entirely too breathy to be her voice. Her eyes hit the floor. What the hell was happening?

"You're welcome, Ana," he said, his voice low, caressing her name in the way it did when they had first met. It was… sensual. Deep and husky. She looked up meeting his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat. Oh God, those eyes. Why was he looking at her like that? Suddenly her apartment felt claustrophobically small. His eyes were roaming her body, making her face flush. She pressed her thighs together in an attempt to control her body's natural reaction to what was happening between them. She pressed her body against the end table, trying to gain space to think, but he further leaned toward her, closing what the distance she'd made.

"Mr. Grey," she whimpered. Oh Jesus, she scolded herself, you're going to have to do better than a whimper Ana.

"Christian," he said, his voice thick. "You call me Christian when we're alone."

"Mr. Grey, sir," she said with a shake of her head, denying his desire to hear his name on her lips. "Please," it was a plea, a prayer. She couldn't be here, couldn't do this. What the hell was it about this guy? She'd never so much as looked at another man. She had everything she needed from Scott, so why did she always feel this pull to Christian Grey?

The ring of her phone was the God-send she was looking for. The sound pulled their attention for a split second that gave her the clarity she needed to set her mind straight. Christian- Mr. Grey- swayed back from her a little and Ana manage to extricate herself from around him. Grabbing her phone like it was a life raft and she was adrift in the ocean, she checked the caller.

 _Scott Kennedy calling…_

She felt the panic rise in her. She couldn't answer, not with Mr. Grey in the room. Scott knew she was at home and he would likely say things to her that she couldn't respond to in front of Christian- _Mr. Grey_ \- without raising suspicions. And she could not risk Christian speaking and Scott overhearing a male voice in her apartment. She was pretty sure she would be punished for not answering, but she would have to lie and tell him she'd been in the shower and hope for the best. Because not answering, even if it garnered a punishment, was better than any of the things that could happen if she did answer and was caught by either of these men engaging in the real roles she shared with each of them behind closed doors.

She needed to get Mr. Grey out of her apartment and call Scott back as soon as possible. That was the best course of action for her right now. So she pulled every ounce of confidence from her core that Scott had worked so hard to instill, and she turned to the man standing before her.

"Mr. Grey, I need you to please leave," she said firmly.

"Ana—"

"Now, Mr. Grey. You've impeded on my personal space far too much as it is. I need you to leave," she said, walking toward the door and opening it forcefully, motioning him to walk through. And he did, almost staggeringly, like he could not believe he was being kicked out. But still, with heavy steps, he did as she asked and exited her apartment. He looked so confused, so lost. She felt a churning in the pit of her stomach. She felt bad- _guilty_. He seemed like a nice guy, but she just couldn't do this. He couldn't understand, and there was no way to explain it to him. There was no easy way to handle this. The best thing she could do for both of them was to cut the cord.

"Please don't show up at my apartment again," she said, closing the door in his dumbfounded face. She cringed as soon as the lock clicked into place. That was brutal. She didn't like being that person. She felt her throat swell with emotion as she closed her eyes and pictured the look on his face. She didn't want him to hate her, as she was sure he likely now did. But her life was just too complicated. She didn't want to drag him through the mud for nothing. She owed everything to Scott, and as much as she was intrigued by Christian Grey, there could never be anything between them.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: You guys probably hate me for the length of this chapter. _**I**_ hate me for the length of this chapter. But I have been crazy busy with mind-numbingly mundane tasks that are as necessary as they are irritating. My week got away from me. Badly. So this is what I have for you. I promise to do everything possible to keep it from taking so long next time. Sorry again! But thanks for all the love and support along the way!

 _ **ANA**_

It had been five days since Christian had shown up at Ana's apartment. She hadn't seen nor heard from him at all, so she assumed she had gotten her point across when she'd so callously told him to get out.

Late at night, when she was occasionally honest with herself, she admitted that she felt a pang, just a pang of disappointment that she'd had to turn him away. She'd never once been interested in a man other than Scott. But deep down, she knew Christian Grey had sparked something in her that just wasn't extinguishing itself. It was for the best this way, there was no doubt about it. He was a smart, handsome, charismatic man. Even if she was free to do what she wanted, she could never be good enough for a man like Christian Grey. And regardless, she was Scott's. She owed him everything, and he'd been good to her. What was she supposed to do? Throw all that away on a whim, hoping for… what? What did he even want from her? Sex? Was he asking her on a date as a means to an end to get her in bed? What if he eventually wanted… more? The thought was terrifying. She would have no idea what to do. She couldn't be someone's more.

She shook her head at herself. Who was she kidding? If Christian Grey wanted someone for companionship, wanted a girlfriend, an eventual wife- he surely wouldn't come to someone like her for that. He would go for one of the millions of beautiful, smart, captivating women of the world. Not a plain-Jane, uninteresting little personal assistant. What could she even offer a man like Mr. Grey? Nothing special. Her body, sure. That was what she was able to give Scott, too. She could offer her body and her submission. But Christian Grey wasn't a Dom. He didn't want her submission. And at the end of the day, that was the only thing she had to offer.

And at least that one thing was something Scott appreciated. He liked proving over and over how he owned her and it always made her feel… valued. She had value when she was with Scott. He was a smart man. Smart and handsome. Women wanted him, and _he_ wanted _her_. Wanted her so badly he literally claimed ownership of her. That was something, right? Some might even say that what Scott felt for her, his possessiveness, it was stronger than love. It was so all-consuming that it meant more than what regular people thought about the silliness of 'romantic love'. He'd told her countless stories about things he'd overheard from teens at the high school, the stupid little dramas they'd found themselves in. It was all just childish nonsense. He made her see that. Made her see how what they had was real, what he had to offer was more than awkward make out sessions in the back of some boy's car, better than an awkward grope-fest in someone's kid sister's bedroom at a house party, better than dealing with jealous 'you-didn't-answer-my-text' rants or finding out you were cheated on. He gave her something better than that. Something solid and dependable. She'd never had to deal with all that teenage drama because Scott had come and saved her from all of that. She'd always been completely content with Scott.

Until Christian Grey came along. Now he was causing her trouble, both in her own thoughts and with Scott. Over the previous weekend, Scott had thoroughly used her body for his pleasure while allowing her none. He'd strung her body along for hours, bringing her to the brink of orgasms before snatching them away at the last moment. And when he wasn't denying her pleasure, he was simply inducing pain. Spankings, floggings, prolonged bondage in uncomfortable positions. On Friday he'd fucked her mouth until thick black mascara tears stained from her cheeks down to her jaw and she hadn't been allowed to wash her face until Sunday evening. He'd ejaculated all over her chest on Saturday and made her keep that on her body as well. His show of ownership had been methodical and complete.

Rubbing her hands over her face, she sighed. Because, _still_ , here she was, sitting here thinking of Christian Grey.

 **X Two Days Later X**

"Ana, a week ago, I was out of town and I called you and you didn't answer, claiming to have been in the shower at the time. Do you recall this?"

"Yes, sir," Ana said, dreading this conversation already. If Scott was bringing it up, there was a reason. She'd expected a possible punishment for not answering the phone, but when it hadn't come with his arrival home, she'd dismissed it. Why was he just now concerning himself with it?

"How well would you say I know you Ana?"

"Very well, sir," she said hesitantly, confused by where he was going with this.

"Yes, very well. Better than anyone on Earth, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, sir. Of course," she agreed.

"Right. So wouldn't it stand to reason that if you did something, said something, or where just somehow _off_ , that I would likely be able to pick up on that? Because I know you so well."

"I—yes, sir," she said.

"That's right. I would. And I _did_ , Ana. Because I know you so well, I saw right through your excuse that you were in the shower when I called. I could tell by your voice, the voice I know so well, that you were not being truthful with me. Either you were omitting something, or you were straight out lying to me that night." Ana swallowed. Hard. Shit.

"I picked up on this right away. I knew the moment the words were out of your mouth that they weren't the full truth. And I almost called you out on it on the spot. But I thought I would give you the benefit of the doubt. I thought maybe you were attempting to deceive me for a reason, or at the very least, you would come to your senses and be truthful after the fact, once the idea that you'd _lied_ to me really had a chance to sink in." His tone had changed now. She could hear the tension, feel the anger brewing in him. "But you didn't. I waited until I came back into town and a saw you in person, and you looked me in the eye and said nothing of your dishonesty." She knew she looked guilty now. She was sure it was written all over her face. There was no use hiding it. Scott obviously could read even the smallest change from her normal demeanor.

"So I did a little digging Ana. I started with your computer, checking the basics- your search history, your emails. But I found nothing suspicious. I checked you phone, and again, nothing." Wait, he'd been in her email and checked her phone? She wasn't aware that he had access to them. Good thing she'd deleted Christian's texts after he left. She felt herself frown at this new information about his reach into her personal belongings.

"I almost thought I was wrong. I was almost sure I had misjudged the situation. But then, I decided to check one last thing. I pulled up your phone bill and crosschecked the time I had called you with the log on your phone. And you know what I found?" She felt her gut twist sharply as her breath caught in her throat.

"Of course you do. I found that a series of text messages were exchanged, nine received by you and seven sent by you, the first of the series having been initiated by a phone number with a Seattle area code. Less than fifteen minutes after the last text was sent by you, I called your phone, and was given an excuse about you being in the shower. But that just seems suspect to me, Anastasia. Very suspect. So I thought to myself, who would you even be texting? Who would have your attention so much that you would ignore a call from _me_? Looking again, I realized that the number was actually familiar to me. You know me and phone numbers- I'm a walking rolodex. I knew instantly where I knew that number. How could I forget? It belonged to such an important man."

Ana felt herself shaking slightly. Bad. This was so bad.

"Who does the number belong to, Ana?"

"Christian Grey," she said in one quick breath. Scott nodded.

"That's right. And look! You managed a modicum on honesty. Unfortunately for you, it came way too late."

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, her voice pleading already.

But he chuckled. "Oh I'm sure you are. Not nearly as sorry as you're going to be, however."

XxX

"I can't go in with you, you understand, right?" Scott asked as he pulled the car into the Emergency Room parking lot.

"Yes," she managed to speak through the pain radiating from her shoulder. God, it was unbearable. They'd done rope play dozens—no- _hundreds_ of times over the last six years, but this was the first time she'd ever been injured. Tears were streaming down her cheeks from the pain. Every bump the car hit on the drive over caused an excruciating amount of pain to radiate down her arm. It took her breath away.

"I doubt its broken Ana. The pop—it sounded like it dislocated," he said, at least having the good grace to sound slightly guilty.

Yes, they'd done rope and suspension play many countless before, but she wasn't sure she'd ever seen Scott as heated as he'd been in the playroom tonight. For so long now her punishments had been for minor infractions, nothing of the magnitude since that fateful day meeting Christian Grey. And after being warned multiple times about interacting with him only to be caught in a lie about contact with him, she knew to expect an extreme of Scott she'd likely never seen before. And he'd delivered on that expectation in spades.

He'd attached a spreader bar to her ankles, widening it to its max. Then he'd bound her arms straight down her back; a set of thick leather cuffs held her elbows less than an inch apart and duct tape bound her wrists. He made her bend about halfway forward at the hips, then had knotted rope around her wrists and looped it through a carabiner on the ceiling, pulling it taut so her arms stretched up and back at an uncomfortable angle. Since the was leaning forward, the rope was the only thing really keeping her from falling on her face, yet the tightness of how it was pulling her arms back was borderline painful for the joints of her shoulders. They'd done this position once before, and she hadn't liked it at all even then. Scott knew she hated it, which was why they hadn't done it since, and exactly why he had done it tonight. It was part of her punishment for texting Mr. Grey.

He'd been aggressive. After leaving her tied up like that for what felt like (and very well could have been) hours, he'd finally come back to the room. Her body was tense, her muscles tight, exhausted and aching. He'd come in, slowly flipping the handle of a paddle around in his hands. She'd been able to see it even with her eyes downcast. He'd stopped in front of her, using the paddle to lift her chin so he could look her in the eyes. She was so uncomfortable, and she knew her face and eyes were screaming this fact to him. But instead of feeling any pity for her, he's smirked at her discomfort before rounding her body and proceeding to paddle her ass hard- sixteen times- one for each text given and received.

Then he'd fucked her. It was so _rough_ and so _hard_ that she was on her tip toes, her whole body tense, her joints throbbing and her muscles screaming. The whole time he verbally slashed her to pieces for her infractions, for lying, for communicating with another man when she was his, _his_ , _**his**_. But she just held fast, her teeth clenched, silently begging for him to finish so it could be over. She didn't think it could get any worse. And just when she was thinking he was almost done, he'd grabbed the rope from where it was secured at the carabiner above them. He'd uncoiled it from its hold and started pulling it tighter. She felt her arms stretching further and further up and back and the ache was torturous.

"Yellow!" she'd groaned. If he went any further…

But he didn't relent, as he should have. He gave the rope a quick, harsh tug, and as the word 'red' fell from her lips, her left shoulder simultaneously let out a resounding _**POP**_ and her vision flashed bright white as the pain lanced through her left side.

He'd stopped then, but it was too late. The damage was done. Carefully, he'd unbound her, not that it mattered. The pain was so horrendous that each movement was nearer and nearer to making her pass out. When he'd finally undone the rope and the tape and the cuffs, he'd helped her into a pair of sweatpants and one of his button-down dress shirts. The sweatpants chaffed her sore, paddled ass cheeks, but that discomfort paled in comparison to her shoulder. He'd ushered her into the car, and now here they were, pulling up in front of the hospital ER.

"So what are you going to tell them?" he asked, prompting her to recite the excuse he'd come up with while he was dressing her earlier.

"I fell. There was water on the floor. I didn't see it. I slipped and landed on my shoulder," she parroted.

"Good girl," he murmured, placing a brief, uncharacteristic kiss on her forehead. "I'm sorry this happened, Ana," he whispered, catching her baby blues with his emerald greens. She could see it, that he was genuinely sorry that this had happened. She wanted to dismiss it, to comfort him, to tell him it was okay, she knew he didn't mean to hurt her, that it was an accident. But there was a little voice in her head snipping, ' _Well then why didn't you stop when I said 'yellow'?_ ' But she instead opted to keep her mouth closed, only nodding once before opening the car door and exiting the vehicle.


	7. Chapter 7

_**CHRISTIAN**_

What the hell? He'd never had to work so hard to get a woman in his whole life. He normally didn't have to work at all. What made Anastasia Steele so immune? He was sure from their first meeting in his office that she found him attractive. And he felt like he'd broken past her walls at least a little bit a couple of times now. He could tell she was at least interested in him, intrigued by him. So why didn't she want to give him a chance? He'd never been completely shut down like this before. It was grating on him. He wanted her. He wanted to get to know her, and he _was_ going to get what he wanted.

Sighing, he opened up the file folder containing her background check for what felt like the millionth time. There had to be something in here that would help him figure her out.

But there wasn't. He knew there was nothing because he'd already poured himself over every single word in the damn thing. And there was barely anything in it. Only child. Went to high school and graduated with honors, but never went on to college. She'd been working for Scott Kennedy since she was eighteen. No known relationships. She had a pretty menial amount of money in the bank, but a nice apartment, and drove a three year old BMW. That was the only thing that stood out to him. She wore a lot of nice clothes and lived in a very nice area and drove a damn nice car for someone working as a PA, yet had little disposable cash to her name. Kennedy's company had become very profitable in recent years and so the company made a lot of money. He could afford to pay his employees a nice wage, and he did. He took care of those who worked for him, offering top notch benefits packages and impressive salaries, much like Christian did. It was no surprise they liked working for him. Regardless, a PA, even a well-paid PA, didn't make the kind of money to have the things she did at such a young age. And one look at the hourly wage in her employee profile proved what he already knew. Maybe she came from money? He would have to have Welch check out her parents and see if maybe Mommy dearest or one of her numerous step-daddies had a habit of spoiling their little girl.

Unless.

What if she _did_ have a boyfriend? Welch couldn't rule it out. She had no social media profiles to go off, and no one else's name appeared on any leases, but that didn't mean there _for sure_ wasn't already a man in her life. It would certainly explain her reticence toward him. But why wouldn't she just tell him that?

Closing her file feeling no less frustrated than he had before he opened it, he grunted. One thing was for sure, he wasn't going to get anywhere by not interacting with her, as had been the case over the last week. Since the day she'd kicked him out of her apartment. -She'd actually kicked him out!- A business trip had tied him up for a few days, and since his return to Seattle, he'd been trying to come up with some sort of plan to get her to let her guard down with him, yet still had nothing to show for it. He was no closer to knowing anything about her, no closer to any kind of plot for getting her attention. She hadn't pursued him, as he was secretly hoping would be the case. All he had was this background check, which was as good as sitting here empty handed.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he pressed the intercom to contact Andrea. "Come in here please, Andrea."

"Sir?" she asked as she walked in the door, her forever ready iPad resting on her forearm and she prepared to take notes on whatever instruction she gave.

"Do we have anything that needs taking care of regarding Greener Horizon's Inc?" he asked, shuffling through papers on his desk, looking for anything with the new GHI logo on it.

There was a slight pause, then a hesitant, "Anything… like what sir?" she asked, clearly unsure about what his was asking.

"Anything like _anything_. Paperwork, something that needs to be… reviewed. Signed. I don't know. Just… anything," he said, waving his hand around in the air absently.

"Um…" she said, using a filler word so uncommon for her. "I'm not aware of anything, sir. I can see if I can scrounge something up?"

"Please do," he said, dismissing her with a flick of the wrist. He was actually kind of embarrassed, and Christian Grey didn't embarrass easily. But asking his very professional PA to 'scrounge up' any kind of paperwork for a company just so he could use it as an excuse to see the PA at said company was actually quite humiliating. Even if Andrea didn't know that was the reason for his odd request. Still it made him look out of control, and out of control easily translated to weak. But right now he was desperate and just didn't give a shit.

"Mr. Grey," her disembodied voice came over the intercom on his office phone. "I found a report in my email for a company that is requesting GHI's services. The requesting company sent the file to me instead of Scott Kennedy's PA. I was just going to forward the request to her, but if you'd like,,. I can…" she said, trailing off, probably because she just wasn't sure what in the hell he _did_ want her to do with information she normally just handled herself.

"Please print out a hard copy of the file and put it in a folder. I'll be out in two minutes to take the file to GHI."

"Yes, sir," she said, not asking any more questions than necessary. The ever professional Andrea Parker.

In a minute and a half, he was taking the folder off of the edge of Andrea's desk, his eyes trained on the elevator, not that she looked up from her computer to make eye contact either.

His fingers drummed the manila folder as he waited for the elevator to slowly make it's descent to the twelfth floor. What would he say to her when he saw her again? This was work hours after all. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Fuck it, he'd figure it out when he got there.

The elevators doors slid open at his destination and he stepped out into the main reception area. He was welcomed by the same receptionist who had been at the old offices, but this time she was seemingly desperate to come off with more professional airs than she'd put on before. She'd been eager to save him the trouble of taking the file to Kennedy's PA himself, but when he'd insisted, she had clamored to point him in the right direction even though he already was aware of it.

Down the hall and to the right, he found the desk where Miss Anastasia Steele, Personal Assistant to Scott Kennedy was supposed to be seated.

Only she wasn't there. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was 10:42, clearly too early for her to be away on lunch break. He backtracked, checking the break room in case she was getting a cup of coffee, but that too was empty. He went back to her desk, standing awkwardly for a moment, trying to decide his next move. Maybe she was with Scott out to some business meeting. He had no idea what Scott's schedule looked like. He could have Andrea access it in the GEH computer system if he so chose, then come back when he knew they were here. But then his PA would surely think he was losing it. And he could probably add that receptionist to the list too. He didn't need it to be obvious to all of his employees that he was chasing after little Miss Steele. He could end up looking like a fool if he kept up behavior like this. Especially if she was still going to end up turning him down.

In fact, it was probably for the best that she wasn't here and that he wasn't able to go through with this. He could just go back up and have Andrea forward this information like she was supposed to. He was shaking his head as his lack of self-control, _especially_ during work hours, when he heard a deep voice from inside Kennedy's office.

Shit. He was in there? Well, if he was in the building, where was Ana? Out sick for the day, perhaps? He hoped not. If so, though, maybe he could use that as an excuse to go to her place. He could go check on her, make sure she was doing okay. He could have Taylor stop on the way and get her some soup. That would surely win him points, wouldn't it?

With the file in hand, he moved to enter Kennedy's office. He could go in, saying Ana wasn't at the desk. Kennedy could then confirm that she was out sick, and then he could tell her that he heard it from her boss when she inevitably asked how he knew she was not at work today. He almost felt giddy at the new plan that was taking shape.

Pressing on the door which was just barely cracked open, Kennedy came into view, sitting behind his desk working diligently at his computer. He was on the phone, which explained why Christian had heard his voice. He raised his fist to knock in order to make his presence known since the lack of reaction showed he obviously hadn't drawn any attention to himself when he'd opened the door, but he stopped when he noticed Kennedy wasn't in the room alone.

Next to his desk, on the _floor_ was Ana. He noticed immediately that her left arm was strung up in what appeared to be a sling. He felt instant worry for her. She'd obviously been hurt. Was she okay? What happened to her?

But those thoughts were fleeting, as his brain caught up and managed to take in the bigger picture before him. She was on her knees to Kennedy's left, her head bowed down, her right hand palm down on her thigh. He watched her totally bemused. What was she doing? She was just… there. Unmoving, What the fuck was she doing? Was she…. She couldn't be… _sleeping_ … could she? He kept just staring at her, waiting for her to move, but she just **didn't**. And obviously Kennedy knew she was there and didn't mind that she was… _what the fuck was she doing_? The longer he waited for something to happen to explain this to him, the more uncomfortable he felt even being there. He was completely thrown for a loop. Not a single idea came to mind to explain what was happening before his eyes. He felt like he was intruding on something he didn't understand but also had a sneaking suspicion that if he did, it would not be something of which he would approve. Whatever it was, he needed to make it stop. He needed Ana to get off the floor, because whatever was happening, he knew he didn't want it to be happening.

So before he gave himself another second to witness it, he knocked loudly while simultaneously pushing the door open the rest of the way, making sure to make a production out of it so he would be noticed.

Kennedy's head shot up at the noise of the door quickly opening along with the sound of off-beat knocking. He muttered a quick "I need to call you back," into his phone before hanging up the receiver so quickly there was no way the person on the line could respond one way or another.

"Mr. Grey," his carefully measured voice greeted. And with and oddly graceful ease, Christian watched Kennedy stand, discretely but purposefully knocking a pen off the edge of his desk by Ana's feet. He looked down at her, his voice still even as he asked, "Ana, did you find your pen down there?"

"Yes, sir," she said, immediately breaking from her statue-still position, grabbing the pen next to her leg and standing. A look passed between them as she stood, taking her iPad off of his desk and holding it to her chest while she awaited instruction.

"That's all then. You can go," Kennedy told her, taking his seat again and dismissing her. Christian watched Ana dutifully turn on heel and exit the room without another word.

He had no time to further contemplate what he'd just seen. He would, later, but for now, he had to come up with a valid reason as to why he'd barged into Kennedy's office the way he had, and he needed to come up with it quickly.

 **A/N: It was short again. I know. Shorter than last time even. And it took forever to post. How embarrassing. But truly my life has been taken over by a homeowner issue that is slowly killing my sanity. At the end of the day, when I have a moment's peace, I'm so frazzled that my story is the last thing I'm thinking about. Had I known this time consuming issue would hit, I probably would have pushed off publishing this story so I didn't have TWO stories out there that don't get updated enough. This was supposed to be my mental break from Guilt Conscience, and instead I simply don't have enough time to properly attempt working on either. It's very frustrating, and I again apologize. I will try to try better, however. Because you guys have been amazing about this story so far. I love the reactions. I love the reviews. You guys are awesome. And I thank you.**


	8. Chapter 8

_**CHRISTIAN**_

He was still at a loss. Hours later, and he was still at a complete loss about what could have been happening in Kennedy's office this morning. There had to be some reasonable explanation, didn't there?

Ana was on her knees. While Kennedy worked, nonchalantly doing business on the phone, she was on her knees at the side of his desk, head down, completely motionless. It was seriously one of the most unsettling things he'd ever witnessed. He felt like an intruder. Like he'd witnesses some very personal moment that he was never meant to see. It made him feel almost guilty for having made himself privy to whatever was happening in the room.

But then again, it was during work hours. Company time. _His_ company's time. Whatever they were doing, it certainly didn't seem appropriate for work. He didn't want to ever hear that a boss was making an employee… wait on their knees? Fuck! _What the hell was she doing?_ He was having trouble trying to figure out how he felt about what he saw, because he wasn't sure what the fuck he _had_ seen.

Was it some kind of punishment? Like… like he was making Ana grovel on her knees? If that was the case, he should have been fired on the spot. There was no way he was going to let an employee get away with mistreatment of a subordinate like that. Every single employee at GEH was to be treated with equal respect by all staff at all times. From himself to the janitorial staff, everyone kept GEH running, so they all held a valuable place.

He knew there was something weird about Scott and Ana's relationship. He was so harsh with her over nothing. So this kind of made sense. It made sense that he was mistreating her.

But obviously she was willing to cover it up for him. She could easily have come clean to Christian at any time that Scott was acting less than professionally with her. But she'd given him that long speech at the old office about how much she and everyone else loved working for him. And she obviously didn't hesitate to go along with the pen story to cover up whatever it was that had happened today.

He needed to talk to her. He needed to tell her that he suspected she was being mistreated by Kennedy and see if he could get her to agree to file a formal complaint so they could get Kennedy terminated. He hated to lose Kennedy's mind, but he wouldn't hesitate to put him out on his ass if what he suspected was true. And Kennedy's contract had a termination clause if he was ever to be found guilty of inappropriate conduct under the GEH rules. This surely applied to that.

Now more than ever Christian was determined to get Ana to open up to him, to trust him. He wanted to help her, protect her. But he definitely needed to get her alone to do it. And he couldn't let this go on one more day. Tonight, after work, he would go to her apartment and talk to her. He would find out if she was afraid of Kennedy and promise to protect her. He would surely be vengeful of losing his job, but that was no matter to Christian. He wouldn't get within ten yards of GEH once he was terminated, and if need be, he could have Taylor put someone on Ana to make sure there was no threat against her. He wasn't even sure how bad this whole thing was. Was Kennedy looking at more than being fired? Could he have possibly done something to warrant jail time? Christian was inclined to think he'd have to at the very least threatened Ana in the past to get her to react the way she did to him…

Regardless, it would stop. Come hell or high water, Christian would make sure of that.

 **XxX**

"Miss Steele's car is leaving the Grey House garage, Mr. Grey," Taylor said from the front seat of the Audi. They'd been sitting in her apartment parking lot for a half hour now. Christian left right when Ana's shift normally ended, intending to meet her at her place, a safe place for her, away from anywhere Kennedy could catch them talking, and see if he could get her to talk about what was happening between them.

But it turns out Ana didn't leave on time today, and so he'd been sitting out here waiting for her to come home. Assuming she was even coming straight home and not grocery shopping or doing some other mundane task regular people who didn't have staff did.

Another twenty minutes passed until he saw her car round the corner and pull into her assigned space in the apartment lot. He caught Taylor's eye in the mirror, giving him a nod to let him know he was going to head out after her. But before he could even get a hand on the door handle to exit the car, he watched another car pull around the corner and park in the spot next to hers. He watched Ana get out of her car at the same time as Scott Kennedy stepped out of the silver Mercedes next to her BMW. Without a word to each other, Ana walked toward the building with Kennedy following a small distance behind her, his eyes trained intently on her the whole way.

What the fuck was this? Why was Kennedy going into her apartment? Christian had a sinking feeling that this was worse than he'd feared. As soon as they crossed the threshold into the building, he was throwing the car door open and exiting to follow after them.

"Mr. Grey, sir," Taylor called after him. "I don't like the idea of you going in there alone. I don't know what is happening between Mr. Kennedy and Miss Steele, but you mentioned being concerned for her safety. And if your concern is at the hands of Mr. Kennedy, then I have to insist that you don't go in after them for your own safety."

"I'm going in, Taylor," Christian said with finality. There was no way he wasn't going to make sure Ana was okay. And there was no way he could even resist the temptation of getting answers to his quickly mounting pile of questions.

"Then I must insist on going in with you sir."

"Fine," Christian said, not even waiting for Taylor to turn off the car before heading toward the building. Taylor caught up quickly, though, and the two entered the building together. Approaching the elevator, it was obvious that something wasn't right with it. Both the up and down buttons were lit up and the elevator showed no signs of life when Christian attempted to call for it anyway. The floor indicator was stuck on the third floor.

With a huff, Christian took to the stairs, ascending the eight flights to Ana's floor, according to the address listed in her file. When he got to the door for the eighth floor, he opened it quietly, checking the halls for any signs of people before pushing it open all the way. What should he do now? Listen at her apartment door? And for what? …Screaming? His eyes shifted to Taylor, who was looking at him like he might have knocked a few screws loose. Hell, maybe he had. But at the moment he didn't care. He wanted to make sure Ana was okay.

So he closed the distance between him and her apartment door, 8D. Tentatively he pressed his fingers to the sleek wood, slowly leaning in so his ear was just inches away. But he didn't hear anything. Not even talking, let alone something as obvious as screaming. He closed the little distance that was left between him and the door, pressing his ear fully against the wood. He strained to hear something- anything. But nothing.

"Sir," Taylor interrupted. Christian batted a hand at him. He needed it to be completely silent. " _Sir_ ," he insisted again. "The elevator appears to have started again and I'd bet Mr. Kennedy and Miss Steele will be the ones to step off of it in about twenty seconds."

Christian's eyes snapped to the elevator, the panel displaying that it was ascending and now on the sixth floor.

A wash of panic ran through him as he looked around, seeing that Taylor was pointing to an alcove in the hallway that was out of view from both the elevator and Ana's apartment door. "There sir," he said, though both were already heading toward the spot.

The elevator doors dinged just as they rounded the short wall. Peeking around the wall so he could see, Christian knew it was a risk, but he couldn't help himself. And just as Taylor suspected, Kennedy and Ana stepped off from the elevator. He looked his usual self, sharp and put together. Ana, however, looked slightly mussed, her clothes a little askew, her hair slightly awry.

As they walked to the door, he watched Scott bring his hand to his lips, slowly dragging his middle finger across his bottom lip before sliding it all the way into his mouth, drawing it slowly back out, and releasing it with a pop.

Christian felt himself grimace. There seemed to be only two reasons Christian could think of that a man would suck on his own finger like that. The first was if he was eating and had food on it. Though he likely wouldn't slowly suck the whole thing in the way Scott just had. Also, he wasn't eating any food. He'd just gotten off an elevator that was evidently halted with the emergency button. An elevator that also contained a young woman who looked slightly disheveled. So that make scenario number two seem more likely- that his finger had just been somewhere much more wicked than in some food.

It took just moments for them to cross the hall, unlock Ana's door and both enter the apartment. And then just a few more moments for Christian to be back in front of her door again to listen. He could sense Taylor's tension, his complete disapproval of them being here right now. But reason was lost on Christian at the moment.

He pressed his ear to the door, surprised to hear the voices right on the other side. Their speech was clear as day without even needing to strain to hear them.

"On your knees," Scott said, his voice harsh and strong, brokering no argument.

"Yes sir," came Ana's soft, feminine voice.

Shit. On her knees? Were they doing the knee thing again? She was going to have to sit there motionless again on her knees, but this time in her own apartment? What the-

"Open your mouth." Christian felt his stomach turn. Oh. No, this was worse than whatever she was on her knees for in Kennedy's office. This was a very different _'on your knees'_. "Good girl."

Good girl? What was she, a dog?

An unmistakably grunt filtered through the door, and even the solid oak seemed to do nothing to deafen the hollow wet sounds emanating from the other side. Christian had had numerous blow jobs in his life. Most could be placed into two broad categories. There were the ones where the woman was making love to one's manhood with her mouth, where the soft sounds licking and sucking could be heard. Then there were the harsh ones, the ones where the woman's mouth was simply another orifice to fuck, where the deep, hollow noises could be heard from her throat while the man fucked her mouth with abandon. This was without a doubt the latter.

Unable to listen to anymore, Christian pulled back from the door, turned on heel and headed for the staircase. He felt so out of control. He was angry, frustrated, and honestly shocked by the information he'd just learned. Ana was blowing her boss. Which meant she was likely fucking her boss. He felt like he'd been lied to, like she'd deceived him this whole time. It was a sick feeling in his gut. But—why? Why did he feel that way? She hadn't told him she was seeing Kennedy, but she'd also hadn't minced words about his chances with her. She'd flat out turned him down. Technically she didn't owe him an explanation as to why. She hadn't led him on. So why did he feel so betrayed? It was like he was… _jealous_. Shit, he was. He was envious of Kennedy. He wanted Ana. He wanted to get to know her, to date her, to kiss her, to take her to bed. And instead Scott fucking Kennedy was getting to do those things.

Or… was he? Was he _dating_ her? He seemed so harsh with her all the time. And under GEH rules, they were allowed to date, so why keep it a secret? Christian certainly wouldn't keep dating Ana a secret. He would happily claim her as his to the world. So maybe… what? Was he right all along, and Kennedy was mistreating her? Maybe he was using his position to strong-arm her into sleeping with him. Maybe she was worried about her job, maybe he'd threatened to fire her if she didn't fuck him. She was so young, and was even younger when she'd started working for him, just eighteen. Maybe he'd used her naiveté to take advantage of her.

Or… maybe she wasn't what Christian thought she was. Maybe she was using Kennedy, fucking him in return for the nice things he could give her. She had a BMW, a very nice place, nice clothes, shoes, jewelry… Maybe she was fucking her boss for the perks. Certainly wouldn't be the first woman to do so. He tried to push that thought down. He really didn't want to believe that she was that type of person. But the truth was, he barely knew her. She _could_ be…

But if she was, wouldn't she have jumped on the chance to get with _him_? He was Christian Grey, a multi- _billionaire_. If she was after money and luxuries, wouldn't she have jumped at the chance to upgrade to someone of his stature? Hell, he'd offered her the Tess books and she'd tried to insist on returning them. That didn't seem like the actions of a gold digger. He took a deep breath, ruling out that theory for the most part.

So if she wasn't looking for superfluities and money, that left just the other two options. She and Kennedy were dating but keeping it low profile for some reason, or he was forcing her into a sexual relationship due to his position of authority over her. Both were big fucking problems for him. Because one meant he really didn't have a chance with her because she was happy with someone else, and the other meant she was being manipulated and coerced into consenting, which wasn't the same thing as true consent.

He knew he should be assuming it was the first option seeing as it was the most likely, because it was typical. Two attractive people who work close together end up together- it was completely sensible and very common. But Christian just had this feeling that that wasn't what was happening in this situation, though. He prided himself on reading people, and through he admittedly had a hard time reading Ana for some reason, he just didn't see any hint of anything that could be considered romantic between them. What he did perceive, however, was something unsettling. He'd always sensed something disconcerting between them, always felt a vibe that he couldn't explain, but surely didn't translate to 'secret boyfriend and girlfriend'. There was something… for lack of a better word, _weird_ about them. Something that just didn't sit right in his gut. And if there was something Christian knew about himself, it was that his gut rarely steered him wrong.

So truly, there was only one thing he could do. He needed to confront Ana. Because if she was being pressured into a sexual relationship with Kennedy, there was no way he was going to let him get away with it. Forget the idea that he was now doing this under the GEH name and what that could do to his company's image if it became public knowledge. This wasn't about anything other than a sweet girl being taken advantage of. Christian didn't always claim to be a gentleman, but he knew right from wrong, and this was certainly a wrong he would not tolerate. He would not stand for the intimidation of any woman by any man anywhere. If Kennedy was forcing her into this, Christian was going to get her out.

 _ **ANA**_

Ana closed the door gently, her body relaxing the moment the lock clicked into place. As much as she normally enjoyed her time with Scott, and as much as she usually trusted him with everything in her life, lately there was a release of tension whenever he left and she was finally alone in her apartment. Ever since the arrival of Christian Grey, there was a shift of intensity had to occur in their sessions. For so long she'd walked into their scenes comfortably knowing exactly what to expect. When before, Scott had just been occasionally strict, he was now ultra-strict seemingly all of the time. Every minor infraction led to punishments, which were now harsher than ever. So now she was always tense, trying to anticipate what might occur. She was naturally clumsy, and even though she'd come far from the ungainly girl she was in high school, it still sometimes managed to seep through, especially when she as nervous, which was how she seemed to stay in Scott's presence ever since the speech he gave outside his office when she got the flowers. She'd recently become hyper-aware of every move she made, trying to be perfect for him. But she seemed to always fail him somehow or another. So it just was nice when he left to not have to worry about doing something that might incur a punishment.

Scott had been in her apartment for the last two hours this evening. He'd originally assured her that today was intended to be simply about drawing out her pleasure as an apology for what had happened with her arm, but after her oversight of leaving his office door unlocked, resulting in Mr. Grey walking in while she was in the sub position at the side of his desk, he'd prefaced it with a forceful blow job as means of menial punishment.

But after that, he had stayed true to his word. He'd proceeded to methodically light her body on fire with a combination of spanking, flogging and a Wartenburg wheel. When she was hot pink from her neck down, he'd tied her up tightly with some heavy rope, her good wrist bound to her ankle and then her ankles bound to her kitchen table on her back. Spread wide open and vulnerable, he'd laved her most intimate parts with his tongue over and over until she was practically delirious with pleasure. He'd cut short of her reaching orgasm, leaving her spread wide on the table while he'd gone fully naked into the kitchen and assembled himself a plate of fresh fruit. Pulling a chair up to the head of the table, a place she didn't even sit when she was home alone because it was his spot, he'd indulged in the naturally sweet treat less than a foot from her wide open core, more often than not dunking the fruit in her flooding juices before taking a bite. Finally he'd finished, stood, aligned himself with her entrance, and proceeded to fuck her deep and slow until they both finally came.

He'd left her on the table while he'd gone and showered, dressing himself back up in his suit pants and dress shirt but forgoing the tie and jacket. He'd finally untied her, given her the pain medicine she'd been prescribed for her shoulder, then wrapped her up in her silk robe while placing a soft kiss on her forehead before he left her apartment.

She grimaced as even the soft silk agitated her still over-sensitized skin. She'd tried everything Scott had ever recommended to her as aftercare, from soaking in cool, lukewarm, and hot baths with various essential oils, to rubbing her whole body down with various creams and lotions. Nothing worked as well as a little time. After a while, she'd probably bathe and put on some moisturizer, but not yet. Normally she'd change into some comfy sweats, but the effort was too much with her arm in the condition it was, so the robe would have to suffice. Then she remembered that the pain meds would likely kick in soon and that would probably solve the whole issue anyway.

She was debating on going through the effort of making dinner with one arm verses just snacking on some crackers in front of the television, when she heard a knock on the door. Assuming it was Scott and that he'd forgotten something, she quickly rushed to open it, hoping that he hadn't changed his mind and decided he wasn't done with her yet. She wasn't sure she could take any more today. He'd been very conscious of her shoulder and the pain it was causing her, but it still ended up very achy due to the tension her body had been under during the long scene.

Pulling open the door, she was surprised to see Mr. Grey, not Scott. A feeling of dread washed over her. This is the last thing she needed. She should have checked the peephole. Damn her for just assuming it was Scott and not checking first!

"Are you fucking your boss?" Ana's mouth dropped open the second the words left Christian's mouth. Immediately he hung his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he exhaled a harsh breath. "Dating. I meant to ask if you were dating Kennedy," he restated, his voice conveying his embarrassment but edged with blunt curiosity.

"No," she said strongly. And truthfully too, because she wasn't. "Not that it's any of your business, as you so arrogantly and rudely come to my door demanding answers to questions that have nothing to do with you. But no, Mr. Grey, I am not dating Mr. Kennedy."

"Then is he abusing his authority and using it to force a sexual relationship with you? Is he threatening your job or your safety in exchange for sex?" he asked immediately, his eyes locked on hers, not an ounce of embarrassment in his tone to show he knew how inappropriate his questions were.

His voice was booming like he was yelling. Was he yelling? It sounded deafening to her ears. Ana's eyes went wide, her mouth dry as she realized the weight of her current situation. What he was asking her… it could ruin everything. He was asking because he suspected something. But how? Why? She and Scott had been at this for years and never once had anyone questioned a thing between them. Why the second Christian Grey stepped onto the scene was he able to start unraveling things?

"No," she said, her dry voice coming out hoarsely. Shit. She should have lied and said it was a relationship. That would have been so much easier to deal with than the truth. Had she known Mr. Grey suspected something more sinister, she would have lied. Ah, if only she could reverse the last thirty seconds of her life.

"Then what is going on between you two? If it's not a relationship, and it's not coercion, then what it is?" he demanded angrily, as if he was mad that it wasn't some sort of relationship built from intimidation on Scott's part.

She was at a total loss, standing there, her mouth agape, floundering. She had no idea what to say. Her mind was completely void of any excuse to explain away her and Scott's relationship, especially to their mutual boss. A man who seemed to be, if you could believe it (and she hardly could) pursuing her with some sort of… _romantic intent_.

He was in her apartment now, the door closed. She only realized it when he had her backed up against her end table, in the exactly same spot he'd backed her up the night he showed up at her place pressing her to keep the first edition Tess books.

"Tell me what's going on Ana," he said, his voice low and gravely. "If it's not a relationship, and it's not coercion, then what is it? Are you fucking him for money? Does he give you pretty things in exchange for time between your thighs? Are you fucking your boss who is old enough to be your father for some monetary perks?" he seethed through his teeth, his harsh words kindling a fire in her chest.

She straightened her back, her face tilting up to match his as best she could with their height difference. "No," she seethed just as angrily at the implication that she could be bought so easily. "I am not a whore. You have no idea what is going on so just shut the hell up."

She saw his face fall a little then, his anger ebbing slightly. "I didn't mean—"

"That's exactly what you meant. Suggesting I would exchange sex for materialistic things, for money. That's the goddamn definition of a whore, Mr. Grey."

"I'm sorry," he murmured, backing away a step, running his fingers through his hair. "I just don't understand…" She took a breath, trying to regain her calm control. Good. His guilt about accusing her of being a whore got him to back off, now she just needed to get him the fuck out of here before he started asking more questions.

"There's nothing to understand, Mr. Grey. Mr. Kennedy is my boss, nothing more."

His eyes narrowed, studying her face. "That's not true. I know it's not true. I may not understand what is going on, but I do know that something **is**."

"Mr. Grey—"

"I heard you sucking him off in your apartment just hours ago, Ana."

Ana felt her gut plummet to her feet, felt the blood drain from her face, her whole body go numb. No. No he couldn't have.

"You're lying," she said, but her voice betrayed her belief in her own statement.

" _On your knees. Open your mouth. Good girl_ ," Christian mocked, the look on his face appalled.

Ana stumbled back, luckily caught by the table one again. Her butt landed on the hard surface, saving her from falling any further. Her chest constricted. She felt flush and cold at the same time. Private. That was so private and Mr. Grey knew about it. How could she deny it? What excuse could she possibly use? Her good hand flew to her head, rubbing her forehead roughly.

"Jesus Christ," Mr. Grey breathed, taking her forearm in his hand and pulling it from her head. She looked at his face, but he wasn't looking at her. He was looked at her wrist.

She didn't know it was possible for her stomach to wrench the way it did in that moment. She watched his face frozen in stunned horror as he gripped her forearm, her loose robe sleeve pushed up just enough to reveal the fresh red marks embedded there from the biting filament rope Scott had used to tie her to the table.

She let out something akin to a pained squeak, desperately trying to pull her arm from his firm hold.

"What does he do to you, Ana?" he asked, his voice pleading for an answer. He sounded lost, so confused, and physically pained as he fought to understand things he could never understand.

"Please, Mr. Grey," she begged, still struggling to pull her arm from his grasp, tears beginning to well in her eyes. He looked at her face then, seeing her anguish and released her. She immediately shook the sleeve of her robe down to cover her wrist.

"Talk to me," he said, his eyes roaming her body like he was looking for more evidence to support his growing suspicions against Scott. She watched them land on her sling, his eyes narrowing. "Did he do this to you too?" She felt the panic rise within her. There was no way she could let him know Scott did this. He would never understand.

"No. I fell," she defended quickly. She was sure he going to see right through that lie. She was surprised, however, when he seemed to believe her. She chalked it up to his being too focused on finding out what was really going on between her and Scott, which he clearly wasn't giving up on, when he continued to push her to open up to him.

" _Talk to me_ ," he urged.

"I can't. You wouldn't understand—couldn't!" she said, shaking her head. He needed to turn around and pretend he'd never heard or seen the things he had. There was no explanation she could make up to explain this all away. So she needed him to just walk away and forgot all of it.

"Try me!"

"No, Mr. Grey. _No._ I can't."

"Is he… raping you?" he said the word on a breath, like even voicing it caused him great pain.

" _No_ ," she said, shaking her head, feeling panicky now. God, if he approached Scott and accused him of rape? Scott would keep her ass black and blue for years. Or—shit- he could even go to the _police_. Fuck!

"Talk to me, Ana," he insisted, grabbing her by her right bicep and squeezing her gently. "Please." She knew she was falling apart right now. All the control over herself that Scott had taught her had vanished as he pushed and pushed and pushed.

"He's my Dom," she blurted out, and in an instant realized her mistake. If there was ever one thing she could take back, one thing in her life she regretted, it was that moment. How, how as she let that out? What was she thinking?

"Dom? What does that mean?" he asked, the fact that his mind was racing to understand her words was written clear as day across his face. She'd never told anyone. _Anyone_. But his grey eyes, so intense, bore into hers, urging her to explain herself. He was accusing Scott of things that weren't true and… and it all started to come out like verbal diarrhea.

"He is my Dominant and I am his submissive."

 **A/N: I know a lot of you are pushing for this to get to a point where Christian gets Ana out of this whole situation, and obviously that's the main, broad spectrum point of the story, right? But it's not going to be as easy as I think some of you are hoping. Woo-hoo—Christian knows! …Now what? I have reiterated time and again to various people and in various reviews how I am not a fan of the -–problem for a few chapters, HEA by chapter 4- storyline. So if anyone out there thinks that now that the secret has been revealed that they will be falling into each other's arms in the next chapter, well, sorry not sorry, but nope. To me, it reads extremely unrealistic that someone as brainwashed as this Ana would be so easily turned to the other side. And I think I've made it pretty clear with her reactions so far that I was not building a character that would be easily swayed. That all being said, we're at least getting somewhere right? Now that he at least has an idea of what's happening, he can start to fit some pieces together and work on finding a way to help her. So hopefully this piece of the story pleases some of you guys. But we still have a lot of work to do.**


	9. Chapter 9

_**CHRISTIAN**_

"Wait, like…" he trailed off, his eyebrows raised high as he tried to reconcile what he thought she was telling him with the truth. Dominant and submissive… that was like… black leather kinky sex stuff, wasn't it? Is that what she meant? She was in to all that… stuff? "Like S&M?"

"Yes. BDSM, more specifically, but yes, you get the idea." She waited with baited breath while he just stared at her, a distant look in his eye while he tried to get his brain to catch up with the conversation.

He was stuck on images running through his brain of the little he knew about that sort of thing. He'd seen references toward Dominatrixes- females- in TV shows and movies, but it stood to reason there was a male version of that. Images of what he associated with the word 'Dominatrix' flooded his mind- thigh high leather boots, black corsets, whips, and a man in his underwear on his hands and knees with a collar and leash. Holy shit, did Ana walk around on her hands and knees being led on a _leash_?

"That's why I keep spurning your advances. Since all of this started- your attention to me- I get punished for everything you do to keep contact with me. He's monitoring my phone, he's watching everything I do. Every time we talk, the flowers you sent, talking in at my desk, the text messages," she groaned at the very fresh memory of the pain from _that_ punishment. "Everything you're doing is making my life with him hell."

Punishment. She was getting _punished_ because of him?

"Punishment?" he gulped.

"Yes," she said, her eyes meeting his squarely but she didn't elaborate.

"How did you get involved in… this?" he asked, waving his hand around in the air, thought he was motioning at nothing but the thoughts in his head and the ideas she was putting out there.

She made a sour face at the tone of his voice "BDSM gets a bad rap but it has done nothing but good things for me."

"Like what? Explain it to me."

"I used to be painfully shy. Awkward. I had severe social anxiety. No friends. I just read all the time. I had no one but myself and the loneliness was killing me. This lifestyle taught me control over my body and my mind. It made me more outgoing. More comfortable in my own skin. I was able to talk to people without stuttering, walk without tripping. I had confidence for the first time in my life. Once I learned control over myself, I flourished, and it was all because of what BDSM taught me."

Christian mulled over what she'd said. Social anxiety was a real thing, he knew that. The way she talked, maybe it was a little worse for her than most, but that was something therapy could have helped with. Not something that could only be helped with such severe intervention. He'd never heard of anyone using sex and punishment to learn to overcome social anxiety. It was crazy!

"See this is why I didn't want to tell you," she muttered. "I see the look in your eyes. You're judging me just like the rest of society judges this lifestyle, but you just don't understand!"

"You're right, I'm sorry. It's just a lot to process. Please, continue to explain it to me. How… how did you get into it? How was this offered as an option to you?" Because seriously—if she was too awkward to even approach someone for simple conversation, how did someone approach her with this? _Oh hey, I saw you sitting here alone. You look painfully shy. Do you mind if I whip, spank and fuck you for a while? I promise it will make you more social!_

"Someone I trusted saw how hard of a time I was having and offered me a way to help. I was so miserable; I was willing to do anything. He started out small and things evolved as I made progress. I was rewarded for good behavior and punished for bad. I had goals to aim for, things to achieve. And if I didn't I was disciplined. It was clear cut and simple and it _helped_ me. It wasn't about sex, not in the beginning. It was about helping me. Step by step until I was finally living- _really living_ my life for once."

Christian looked her over, seeing the innocence in her big eyes as she recalled the pain of the life she used to live. He could also see the conviction in her face, hear it in her voice as she spoke with a reverence about this person who 'saved' her. What steps had she taken to fix her issues before taking this one? He pictured her spending all of her teenage years with that sad, desolate, lost look in her eyes. A beautiful girl weighted down with the anxiety built from her own mind. Was she quietly tucked away in school, studying, making no friends, miserable when someone came along and offered her this chance to change? Perhaps in college? She looked so young, even now. How old was she now? How old was she _then_? "How old were you when you finally received this _help_?"

"Fifteen," she let out in a breath, like it was easy, like it was normal.

Fifteen? Shit- fifteen was nothing! She hadn't needed intervention at fucking _fifteen_. Plenty of kids were socially awkward at fifteen. That's what she was defending? Some stuttering and lack of friends at a time when everyone was just starting to learn how to handle all of those things? That was normal! Not cause for introducing BDSM into one's life to 'cure' it!

Christian felt his gut plummet as the real weight of her situation hit him. She was doing this kind of outrageous sex shit at _fifteen_. Shit. He'd done his share of kinky shit in the bedroom, but she'd been practicing _BDSM_ when she was still a **kid**! At fifteen, he had no idea what BDSM was or that anyone in the world did that kind of stuff during sex. He hadn't even lost his own virginity until 16, and it sure as hell wasn't with bondage and all that shit. So how did the kid who introduced her to this lifestyle know about it? But even as Christian asked himself that very question, he knew it wasn't right. He knew that wasn't the question he should be asking. Because he knew immediately that the chances of it being another kid to introduce this to her was slim to nil. "How old was he? The person who introduced you to that stuff?"

"It doesn't matter, Christian. He was older, but he helped me, and that's all that matters. Our relationship isn't conventional to the masses, but it works for us. It works for me."

Works. Work _ **s**_ _._ The sick feels grew stronger. Present tense. Not past tense.

Holy shit.

This was worse than he thought. _It was Kennedy._ Kennedy was the guy who introduced her to this at fifteen. And he'd had his claws in her ever since. "It was Kennedy. He… _taught_ you that stuff, didn't he?" he asked, but it wasn't really a question.

She sighed. "Yes, but-" He knew. He already knew, but the moment she said yes, it set him the fuck. off.

"Oh my God, Ana! _But_ nothing! How old is he? That's… that's rape, Ana! He raped you! He raped you and you thank him for it! He's a pedophile! Don't you see that?"

Her guard was back up in an instant and her whole body bristled as she snapped back at him. "Don't say those things about him! He's a good man! He's helped me _so much_."

"Even if that's true, and I'm not saying I believe that it is, it doesn't matter Ana! He was an adult and you were a child."

"It was consensual!"

"It can't be! It can't be consensual when you're not of the age to consent! It was rape!"

"See, this why I didn't want to tell you! You're talking about something you know nothing about. You didn't know me. You didn't know my life. Scott is the best thing that ever happened to me! He helped me," she groaned defensively, raising her hand up to flail it around absently in the air. The action caused her robe sleeve to tug down again, re-revealing the bright red marks on her wrist. He grabbed her arm again inspecting it as he only now noticed the light purpling from where it was starting to bruise.

"Let me go, Mr. Grey," she begged desperately.

"This shit is not okay! What is this from, Ana? What caused this?" he asked, raising her arms in the air in disbelief.

"It's fine. I'm fine. It's just rope burns."

"Rope burns?" he asked, feeling the bile rise in his throat. _Rope burns._

"Christian, _please_ ," she said, tears coming to her eyes as she still fought to free her arm from his grasp. A voice in his head was warning him not to badger her too much, not to push her too far, or he could only end up making it worse. _Calm down. She's a victim here. It's not_ _ **her**_ _you are mad at. You need to control your fucking temper, Grey._ But his disgust for the situation quelled the nagging thought and he continued to push. She needed to see this for what it was. He **had** to make her _see_!

"You need to stop seeing him. Don't you see how he's been manipulating you your whole life? He makes himself the sole focus on your world, Ana! He made you think he was helping you blossom, but really he was forcing you to wilt even more. He's made you depend solely on him. He's in control of your job, your home, your car, your time… everything. He holds all the power in your life so he can do what he pleases. How can you not see that?"

Ana finally yanked her arm free, from his grasp. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Mr. Grey."

"You're deflecting," he said- insisted.

"I'm not," she said, though her voice waivered slightly, just enough for him to catch it, reaffirming to him his need to keep pushing and pushing.

"You are. If what I said isn't true, then tell me- what do you do for fun?"

"I read," she said. "I told you that."

"You read. Okay. What else?"

She clenched her jaw, her eyes avoiding looking directly into his.

"What else, Ana? What else do you do that has nothing to do with Scott Kennedy? Name some places here in Seattle that you like to go by yourself- just you."

"I just moved to Seattle," she replied, bristling defensively. "I don't know the city well."

"Fine, Portland then. You started working for Kennedy in Portland three years ago. Where did you like to spend time alone there?"

"You wouldn't know them. They're not well known places," she said, the blush on her cheeks indicative that she was lying.

"Try me. I know Portland pretty well."

"I don't have to answer your questions," she spat.

"Don't have to, or can't?" he spat.

She just glared at him.

"Okay, so you refuse to name me _one_ place where you like to spend time alone in a city you lived in for what- three years? Fine. Friends then. Tell me the names of three people you consider your friends."

He could see it. He could see her faltering now, see that he was wearing her down. She swallowed hard, her eyes coated in a sheen that was precursory to welling tears. _You should stop. This is getting out of hand_. But this is what she needed- to see reality.

"Come on, Ana. You said yourself that he helped you overcome your social anxieties. He allowed you to go out there and live for once. To talk to people and make friends. So if he helped you so much to do those things, surely you can name a few friends to back up that claim. Tell me all the things he pushed you to do, to go out and experience with your new found comfort in social situations. Come on. Tell me. One _thing_. One **person** , Ana, that makes up your life other than Scott fucking Kennedy!"

 _ **ANA**_

Ana's mind was frantic as Christian Grey stood there bellowing at her. She couldn't think straight. She was at a complete loss for words. She wanted to say something to force him to shut the hell up. He didn't know her. He didn't know her life. How dare he sit here and judge what she and Scott had.

But the truth was, she couldn't come up with one measly example to prove him wrong. She couldn't think of one thing to say to him to force him to believe that what she was saying about her and Scott's relationship was true. In the pit of her stomach, an unease started to form. _Mr. Grey is right. You have no friends. You have no life outside of Scott._ She dismissed the tiny voice as soon as it spoke. That was too simplistic of an explanation. Mr. Grey wasn't right. It wasn't as cut and dry as that. Scott _had_ helped her find those things. It was just that life had gotten in the way over the years. Friends fell to the back burner. Other activities she liked to participate in became less important.

After Scott quit teaching to start GHI, they moved from Montesano to Portland. It was a better climate for his offices, as well as being away from the watchful eyes of their small town. They didn't need the added attention that a former teacher and student working so closely together would garner. The move to Portland from Montesano put distance between her and the friends she'd made in high school. She hadn't had time to make new friends in Portland, not with all the work they had to do to get GHI off the ground. GHI took up a lot of her time, and it caused Scott a lot of stress. He needed her to be available to relieve the stress of his day to day with intense sessions in his playroom. So she'd made sure that she was there for him whenever he asked. She'd owed it to him to be there to help him when he'd done so much to help her. Then time just sort of… passed. But it hadn't mattered to her. She was perfectly happy devoting her time to Scott. And if she decided to go out and make a friend, or join a book club or something, she was sure Scott would support her, just like he had in high school.

Christian Grey had no clue what he was talking about. He didn't know Scott and he didn't know her. He had some nerve coming her trying to vilify the man who had done so much for her. Dismissing the thoughts he was attempting to force into her head, she straightened her back and held her chin high. "You need to leave," she said icily.

"Ana," he tried to reason, backtracking from the brusquer attitude he'd just taken with her, purposefully softening his tone and demeanor.

"No, Mr. Grey. I said leave."

He grunted, rubbing his eyes roughly in exasperation. She could see his mind was still reeling from all the new information, and his face showed no sign that he was even entertaining the idea of leaving like she'd insisted.

But she had no doubt in her mind, that she wanted him gone— _needed_ him gone. She felt unbelievable exposed now that he knew the truth, the harsh reality of it washing over her in waves. Her chest tightened with anxiety. She'd _told_ him. How could she _tell_ him? She felt her breathing increase with her anxiety, her breathing echoing the sentiment of her building panic. He needed to go. She needed him out. She was going to lose her shit in about two seconds if she had to keep looking into his shell-shocked, pitying face.

" _Please_ _**go**_ ," she managed to push the words out in a staccato breath, her firmness from a moment ago suddenly gone and her desperation reeking around them.

His eyes widened, clearly perceptive of her sudden shift to angst. Reluctantly, he lifted his hands in surrender. He took in a deep breath, letting it out audibly like someone doing an often-practiced breathing exercise, nodded ever-so-slightly, and turned on his heel heading toward her apartment door.

 _Thank God._

But he turned back to her just as he opened the door, his eyes pinning her like they seemed to do so well. "This isn't over Ana. I'm not giving up on this until I make you see what Kennedy really is." And with those final words he was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Jake Arrieta threw a no-hitter for the Chicago Cubs yesterday, so I'm treating you all to an update. Like a pizza place giving out free pizzas when someone hit's a grand slam. And hey- Kris Bryant did that yesterday too! Guys, I love baseball… Anyway. Without further ado…**

 _ **CHRISTIAN**_

He paced his home office, his mind running wild. What could he do to make her see the truth? How could he make her see that Kennedy was a predator who was had manipulated her for their entire relationship? She needed to see the truth. But how? How how how? It wasn't her fault. She was so young, too young when he exposed her to such overwhelming and consuming ideas about life and relationships and men and sex. She should have been experiencing awkward kisses at the movie theater and sweaty palms at home coming dances, and instead she was… he looked down at his computer which was opening to some website explaining the basics of BDSM. He cringed, thinking of a fifteen year old doing any of those things, especially with a man twice her age. He thought back to when Mia was fifteen, what she'd been like, how obviously immature she was, physically and mentally. If he found out anyone had done to Mia what Kennedy had done to Ana? Christian picked up the nearest thing off his desk and whipped it against the wall of his study.

"FUCK!" he growled, the anger blazing so brightly he could hardly see straight.

There was a knock on his office door, and he knew from experience that it was Taylor's sharp knock. "Come in," he grumbled.

"Sir," Taylor came in looking around to assess the damage from the noise he'd just heard. He looked over to see Christian's phone smashed into pieces and a dent in the wall from the impact.

"Shall I have Welch get you a new phone, sir?"

"Yes," Christian huffed. Then immediately it gave him an idea. "Have him get me two. Replace mine. Then get me another. Not in my name. Not traceable to GEH either. Just link it to some ghost account. Top of the line. Unlimited everything. Program my personal cell into it. And see that it finds its way to Anastasia Steele, but make sure no one sees you give it to her or knows it's from me."

"Of course, sir," Taylor said, making his leave for the door when Christian stopped him.

"Can I speak to you for a moment Taylor?" Christian asked him.

"Of course, sir," Taylor said, doubling back and taking the seat Christian motioned to across from his desk.

But Christian sat quietly, contemplating what, if anything he could discuss with Taylor without feeling like she was putting Ana's very personal business out there.

"Sir?" Taylor asked, urging him.

"Sorry. I have just recently learned some very disturbing information about Ana and I am trying to decide if it is my place or not to share said information with you."

"If there's something dangerous between Miss Steele and Mr. Kennedy, and you are involving yourself in that, I would think it prudent that I be notified of as much information as possible."

Christian sighed. "Dangerous…" he mulled the word over. Kennedy wasn't a danger to her physically, not really, if Christian was understanding this whole BDSM thing correctly. But that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. A pedophiliac sexual predator was definitely a danger. Someone who willingly manipulated innocent children was probably the world's worst kind of danger. Fuck it, he trusted Taylor more than anyone in the world, and he was at a total loss here. He needed advice and help and Taylor would probably be the person best able to give him those things.

"Jason," Christian said, looking his right hand in the eyes. He rarely addressed him by his first name, so he took notice of the way Taylor's shoulder immediately stiffened and his attention peaked. "Scott Kennedy has been participating in a sexual relationship with Ana since she was fifteen." He watched as his always stoic PPO's face contorted into a grimace, his Adam's apple bobbing harshly like he was swallowing a bug. "Are you familiar with BDSM?"

"Not personally, sir, but I do know the basics of what it entails."

Christian nodded. "Kennedy knew her somehow. I'm not sure exactly how they became involved at this point. But he knew her and convinced her that he could help her overcome what she claims to have been some form of _social anxiety_ by providing her with a reward and punishment system every time she did or did not display such behaviors. Sex became involved after a time, and they are still involved in a BDSM relationship where he dominates her and she submits to him."

"That's…" Taylor said, trailing off.

"Yes, it is," Christian agreed, knowing that he, too, had difficulty coming up with words to describe how the whole thing made him feel. Taylor held old school principles about how to treat women and children, and with a daughter of his own, Christian knew he would feel intensely about this whole thing.

"She doesn't see anything wrong with it. Obviously Kennedy has done a number on her, manipulating her at such an impressionable age to such a degree that she can't see the truth. I am not willing to walk away from her. I want to help her see what he is, what he's done. She claims he's helped her, but the truth is, he has made himself the center of her universe. She works directly under him, lives beyond her means to the point where I suspect she lives in a home he pays for, drives a car he pays for. She has no friends, no hobbies. He is her life and I don't think she has the means or support to extricate herself from him even if she decided she wanted to, which incidentally she does not. But I want to find a way to help her. So I need a plan, here. I need to do something to help make her see him for what he is."

"I can look into the legal ramifications, if you'd like. See about the statute of limitations on statutory rape," Taylor offered.

Christian sat up at attention, nodding enthusiastically halfway through Taylor's sentence. "Yes, that's a good idea."

"Also, sir, may I suggest speaking with a psychologist. They might be much more knowledgeable about how to approach the topic with Miss Steele. She's likely to keep shutting down if she defends Mr. Kennedy's position in her life. Maybe a psychologist will be able to recommend how best to handle everything until she's ready to start seeing the truth and becomes willing to talk to a specialist herself. It's the same idea as hiring one to preside over an intervention for an addict. Professional guidance and such."

"Yes, good," Christian agreed again. These immediate reactions were exactly why Christian trusted Taylor so much. "See if you can get contact information for a Dr. John Flynn. He's a psychiatrist. I used him years ago, and he really helped me through some rough patches I had as a teen. He specializes in adolescents, so he might be very helpful since all this began during Ana's adolescent years. I'm not sure if he's still in Seattle, but I'd like to reach out to him first, if possible."

"Yes, sir," Taylor said, seeing his cue and standing to set the ball in motion on all the things they'd discussed.

Christian breathed a little easier now that the beginnings of a plan were in place. He liked Ana. Wanted her, even. And if he had anything to say about it, one day she would be his. But for now, the most important thing was helping her. Kennedy had tied her down to this life and Christian wanted to free her of it. _Tied down_. How apt. Christian scowled. The audacity of a grown man taking advantage of a teenager like this… it disgusted him. He'd been a victim of child abuse. Never sexual, but horrific abuse just the same. But he was lucky. He'd been saved by Grace and Carrick Grey.

He brushed his fingertips over his clothed chest, remembering what it was like to be young and afraid. He'd spent years unable to accept touch from anyone, even his family. But with love and patience and the help of a good psychiatrist, he'd been able to overcome the trauma of his childhood and become a well-adjusted adult. It had taken time. He remembered when he'd been in his mid-teens, he'd gotten into trouble, drinking and fighting. He hadn't understood it at the time, but with therapy he learned that it was as a way to cope with his inability to accept love or touch. A way to be physically close to someone. After his third school expulsion, he'd been forced to switch psychiatrists, and that was when he'd met Dr. John Flynn. Through intense therapy, John helped him realize that his acting out was his way of saying to the world that he was ready for a change. He was ready to face his demons and wanted to work through his past and learn to accept the things he never thought he could. It had been a pivotal point in his life. He'd been… what? Fifteen.

His gut roiled again. Fifteen. Just like Ana. Fifteen and so vulnerable. So lost and confused. John had gotten ahold of him at just the right time to persuade him to change his life. He'd offered him a lifeline, offered him a chance to change everything if he was willing. And he had been, desperately so. But what if John hadn't been the one to get ahold of him? What if someone with evil intent had sunken their claws into him first. Christian had been so lost, so desperate for something he didn't understand, that who knows what he would have been susceptible to the influence of? He closed his eyes and tried to image a life in which his loving parents and the good doctor hadn't been the ones there to catch him when he was falling. What if, instead, a sick and twisted pedophile had manipulated him into some dark sexual relationship? The dark truth was, that anything could happen. These sorts of things happened all the time in the world. Twisted adults preyed on innocent children, and it was gut-wrenching. It _could_ have happened to him, to Elliot, to Mia, but it _did_ happen to Ana.

Christian heaved a sigh, opening his eyes. He hadn't known Ana then. He couldn't have saved her. But he could and would do everything in his power to save her now. She was what? Twenty-one? She had a whole life to live. At her age, with her intelligence, she should be getting ready to graduate college, but instead, she was working under Kennedy's watchful eye. But it wasn't too late for her to go to school for publishing like she'd briefly expressed interested in—another thing Kennedy probably purposefully kept her from doing under the guise of needing her help with GHI. Christian grunted angrily at that newest realization. So many things she missed out on due to his manipulation. But Christian would fix it. Once he got her out of Kennedy's grasp, got her into her own place with her own car and her own job, getting therapy to help her work through everything, then he would offer to pay for her to go to school. He would find a way to right the wrongs Kennedy did to her.

His mind wandered to what Taylor had mentioned about the statute of limitations. He hoped there was a way to seek legal action against Kennedy was well. He deserved to be in jail for that he'd done to Ana. For all Christian knew, Ana wasn't the only one he'd done this to. What if there were others? Other innocent kids out there who had been seduced by his promises of help and control. The man was so damn charismatic, it should be no surprise that he knew how to smooth talk sweet, young, impressionable girls the way he did. He was attractive, too. Christian bet that went a long way in helping his cause. And, hell, he knew how to talk to teens! He had been a goddamn high school teacher-.

Christian froze. _High school teacher._ He'd been a fucking high school teacher! Quickly he found pulled out the background check he'd had done on Ana, his index finger trailing the paper until he found the line listing her education.

 **Montesano High School, Graduated with Honors June 2007**

Immediate he was on his phone, and Welch answered on the first ring.

"I don't have Scott Kennedy's background check with me. Can you tell look it up and tell me where he was employed in 2005-2006?" If Ana graduated in June of 2007, she was seventeen at the time. So that meant she'd have turned fifteen in September of 2005. If Kennedy was a teacher at her school at that time, he'd bet his entire fortune that was how he'd met her.

He heard Welch clicking around on his computer for a moment. "It says that he was employed at Montesano High School, sir. He signed a contract with them in July of 1996, and worked as a Physics teacher there until resigning in June of 2007. He was approved for a bank loan and filed all the paperwork to start Greener Horizons Inc. by July of that same year."

Christian squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He was a teacher. He'd not only taken advantage of someone underage, but he'd taken advantage of one of his _students_.

"I want more information on him, Welch. I want to know if he's ever been accused of inappropriate behavior with a student before. Find out where he worked before Montesano High. He's in his late forties, early fifties right?"

"Forty-nine, sir,"

"Well then he likely graduated sometime around twenty-two, so that would have been roughly 1983. He had to work somewhere before going to Montesano High in 1996. Find out where and why he left."

"Yes, sir."

"And Welch? This is going to sound… peculiar, but do you have any knowledge of the sexual lifestyle called 'BDSM' or how to access information on people in that lifestyle?"

"It might take some doing, but I have a lot of connections, sir. I might be able to access some information. Can I ask for more details, so I know where to look, sir?"

Christian pursed his lips, debating for a moment before again saying 'fuck it'. "I know Kennedy is involved in it. I want to know his level of participation. Any and all information regarding his involvement."

"I'll see what I can dig up, sir. But it might take some time. And a lot of favors," Welch warned.

"Do whatever you have to do."

 _ **ANA**_

Ana laid in bed, the quiet interrupted only by the random car driving by on the street. It was completely dark in her room and she was nestled in her bed under her blue comforter, warm and cozy and so, so tired. When had her life become so eventful? She'd been used to the same thing for so long now- work, time with Scott, sleep, repeat. Then something happened and boom!- she'd found herself thrust into this chaos. She scoffed. That something was more like _someone_. Christian Grey. She'd been just fine in her life before he came along; she was content with the way things were with Scott. She had a good job, a nice home, a safe car, and a man that looked out for her wellbeing while giving her superb sex. That was way more than a lot of people her age had, _that_ was for sure.

Stupid Christian Grey thinking he could give his stupid input on her life like he knew her. She was relieved that she hadn't heard from him since she'd kicked him out of her apartment three days ago. Maybe, after thinking about it, he'd realized he had no business trying to insert himself in her life affairs, despite his parting line promising that he would find a way to do just that. She could only hope that he'd found a way to accept that this wasn't his concern, _she_ wasn't his concern. Maybe he would leave her alone for good, and then she could **finally** stop _thinking_ about him.

 _Why couldn't she stop thinking about him?_

She squeezed her eyes shut with a groan she rolled from her back onto her side. But all she saw when she did was intense grey eyes and messy copper hair.

Her eyes sprung back open, and that was when she noticed a faint flashing light across the room. _What was that?_ She laid there, trying to figure out what it could be. It reminded her of the notification light on her phone, but one look to her night table confirmed that her phone was atop it, charging. When she couldn't come up with anything else to explain it, she threw the blankets off of herself and strode across the room. Flicking on the lamp, the faint light disappeared under the stronger glow, but she realized it had been coming from where her purse was sitting.

Grabbing the handbag, she went back to her bed, sitting crossed legged with it on her lap and began to sift through it. Her hands patted the sides, and she felt something hard in the front pocket, a place she never kept anything because it only closed with a single snap and therefore she didn't trust anything to not fall out of it.

Reaching in, she pulled out… a phone? She eyes shot to her nightstand again, where, yes, her phone was sitting just as she'd already confirmed a minute ago. Turning it over in her hand, she noticed this wasn't even the same kind of phone as she had. She had a Samsung, and this was an iPhone. How in the hell did this end up in her purse?

Pressing the small circle button at the bottom, the phone lit up, and she swiped her finger across the screen like it indicated to do. It wasn't locked, so immediately the home screen popped up. A little number one was perched next to the text message icon, as well as the email icon, but she didn't click on either. She wouldn't want someone reading her messages or emails if she lost her phone, so she wouldn't do that to someone else. Pressing the icon for the Contacts list, she figured she looked for one that said "Home" or "Mom", so she could call and let them know to tell the owner of the phone where they could retrieve it. But when the contact list opened, her breath froze as she saw there was only one name in the list.

 **Christian**

What the fuck?! What the hell was this?

Quickly she clicked on the text message icon, seeing that it was indeed from the contact listed as 'Christian'. She also noted that it was dated two days ago, the day after she'd spilled her gut to him. Meaning, he really hadn't left her alone like she thought. She just hasn't realized that he'd reach out to her in such an odd way.

- **Ana, please open the email app. I have created an account for you that cannot be traced to either of us. It was easier than typing this all via text. There is an email waiting where you will find answers to some of the many questions I'm sure you are asking right now.**

Then another message from yesterday.

 **-I can see from the read receipt that you have not yet viewed my text or email yet, so I will assume you have no found the phone. However, once I do receive a read receipt, I expect to hear from you immediately.**

She glared at the phone. He would see that she read the texts, but she could easily just ignore the email. What if she didn't want to hear what he had to say? What if—

 _Who are you kidding, Ana?_ Of course _you want to see what he has to say._

Rolling her eyes at herself, she jabbed the email icon with her index finger, then clicked on the sole email in the Inbox.

* * *

To: Anastasia Steele

From: Christian Grey

Subject: iPhone

Ana-

If you're reading this then you obviously found the phone. I had Taylor, my personal security, find a way to slip the phone to you so as not to arouse suspicions from anyone, namely Scott Kennedy. You mentioned that our communication was getting you in trouble, so I figured providing you with a means of communication that he cannot track, that cannot be traced to neither you nor myself, would solve that particular issue.

I meant what I said, Ana. I am going to do anything in my power to make sure you see the truth about the man you think you know. I find myself inexplicably drawn to you, and I simply cannot sit back and watch as he keeps exploiting your trusting naiveté.

I will be contacting you on this phone. Feel free to contact me whenever you feel the want, or especially the need. If you need something, anything, I am here to help you, Ana. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I can be an ear, a shoulder, a friend, a protector, and so much more. You just have to let me.

Please reply to this message as soon as you read it.

Christian Grey  
CEO, Grey Enterprise Holdings, Inc.

* * *

Ana stared at the email, reading the words on the screen through twice before allowing her brain to try and sort them out. Then she just started to type.

* * *

To: Christian Grey

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Re: iPhone

Mr. Grey,

I am not quite sure what to say to you regarding this entire situation. Providing me with a phone is unnecessary, because I do not think there is any reason we need to be in contact. I do not need an ear, a shoulder, or protection. There is nothing in my life I dislike, nothing in my life I fear. I am happy. Everything between Scott and I is one hundred percent consensual and completely normal. Just because you don't understand my lifestyle choices does not mean they are wrong. Scott is my ear, is my shoulder, is my protection. And trust me, if he knew about what you were doing, what you were accusing him of, all the body guards in the world wouldn't stop him from confronting you. He takes my health and safety very seriously, and would be appalled to learn you consider him a threat to either.

I deeply regret the slip of my tongue where I let my deepest secret become known to you. I would greatly appreciate it if you would pretend like it never happened. Please, Mr. Grey, forget I ever told you anything about my personal life, and we can both continue to maintain a strictly professional relationship while at work, and a nonexistent relationship outside of it.

Thank you,

Anastasia Steele

* * *

There. That should do it. Strong and decisive, yet respectful. She wasn't spurning him because of emotion, because of anger at him overstepping his boundaries. She was declining his help because she simply didn't need it. He needed to see that she was of sound mind. He needed to understand that she was an adult who could make her own rational decisions. That they just had a difference of opinion, but he was wrong to assume that just because he didn't understand it, that what she and Scott did was wrong. At least she hoped that was what the tone of her response conveyed.

* * *

To: Anastasia Steele

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Re: Re: iPhone

Have you ever asked yourself why, if everything about it is perfectly normal, perfectly consensual, does it have to remain a deep dark secret?

Christian

P.S. I noticed you mentioned not needing an ear, a shoulder, a protector because Kennedy does those things for you. But you omitted where I offered to be a friend. Does he fill that role in your life as well? Does anyone?

* * *

Ana felt her breath hold in her lungs. He wasn't letting this go. She felt the anger swell in her chest, coupled with embarrassment at this man who was practically a stranger pointing out things her mind had never considered and was subsequently urging her not to think about. Because, no, Scott was not her friend. That was a label he clearly didn't carry in her life. Maybe at one time, she would have labeled him as such, but not for years now. And while she was sure she didn't need Christian Grey to carry that label either, she was having a hard time admitting to herself that Christian was right, no one in her life really carried that label. She had no friends, not since she left Seattle for Portland four years ago.

Ana threw the phone down onto her bed, then picked up her pillow and used it to hit the stupid device a couple of times. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and huffed, irritated that Christian was getting into her head. It didn't matter what he said, she was happy, and that was all that mattered.

Rolling onto the other side of the bed, she pulled the blanket over her shoulders and snuggled down into the bed. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to go to sleep, where hopefully she would be free of thoughts of Christian Grey, at least for a little while.


	11. Chapter 11

_**CHRISTIAN**_

Christian sat in the small conference room, his fingers drumming haphazardly on the surface of the table. It was pristinely clean in here, which was just homage to the dedication of his janitorial staff, since this room hasn't actually been booked for a conference in over six months. It was cramped, definitely. A table of six was rarely sufficient space for any meeting being held at GEH. But it was a room on the main floor that didn't really have any use, so it'd been converted into a conference room and sat stagnant most of the time.

Except for today.

Today he was waiting in this room because no one would need it. No one would find him here. No one would accidentally walk in. Only one person would be entering that door to join him. But she didn't know it yet, and she wouldn't know that it was happening until it _was_ happening.

He looked at the clock on the wall. Any minute now. Any minute security would pull her aside for a problem with her badge and lead her to this room while they got the 'problem' sorted out. Any minute.

When the door finally cracked open, he watched from across the room as Ana hesitantly stepped in. He'd purposely placed himself at an angle from the door where he wouldn't be in her immediately view point. Which proved to be a wise decision as, when she did scan the room and noticed him, she immediately moved for the door handle to try and leave.

But she was met with resistance, thanks to Taylor holding it clothed from the outside, and immediately he saw the panic rise in her.

"You can't lock me up in here with you!" she exclaimed immediately, her voice taking on a higher pitch than normal.

"Ana, I just want to talk," he said in a calm voice. He didn't believe that she actually believed he would hurt her. But he also knew she would want to run, and he couldn't have her keep running. He was fighting a very hard battle, balancing on a razor's edge of wanting her in a romantic sense, and wanting to keep her safe. He knew in order to help her, his feelings for her should take a back burner, but that was easier said than done. He knew, logically, that he should focus all of his attention on just helping her escape Kennedy and get on her own two feet rather than pursuing her for himself, but his heart and his body often warred with his mind on why he couldn't both simultaneously.

"Well I don't, Mr. Grey. I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to look at you. I don't want to be near you. I just want my life to go back to how it was before I met you. When everything was easy, when everything was normal, when I was—"

"Being used?" he interrupted, her face falling at his words. "When you were simply accepting of being Kennedy's play toy, unable to have thoughts, feelings, friends, and a life of your own? You miss when you were a mindless puppet for him, made to twist and bend to his every desire? You miss not having to use your own mind to make your own decisions? You miss not following your own instincts, your own heart? You hate that you've started to have thoughts of your own, now? You hate that you are starting to see the cracks in his façade, that you are starting to questions everything he's ever told you, everything you've ever known to be true simply because he's told you it was and you trusted him? You're scared of living your own life, of taking responsibility of it?"

He watched her swallow hard, watched her blanch has he continued to let sentence after sentence roll off his tongue. In the back of his mind, the warning bells were going off, saying he was being too forceful yet again. He needed to handle this more gently, almost with kid gloves in order to avoid having her shut down on him like she'd done time and time again. But as with the times before, he was having a hard time utilizing his brain to mouth filter, and he was unable to listen to the advice he was trying to give himself.

He looked at her, her eyes void of the sparkle with which he'd started to become infatuated. She looked sad, _embarrassed_ , at his words.

"I'm sorry," he muttered after a beat, knowing now that he had definitely taken things too far. Berating her for being emotionally abused by Kennedy wasn't going to do her any favors. "I know it's not your fault you fell into his trap. It's not your fault he's manipulated you the way he has."

The fire in her eyes rekindled as she sat up, venom in her voice as she spoke. "I haven't been _manipulated_ by anyone Mr. Grey. I am a willing participant in what Scott and I share. You're the only one who has a problem with it."

"Ana, I didn't mean to offend you. You're the victim here—"

" _Victim_ ," she practically screeched. "I'm not a victim, Mr. Grey," she insisted, standing up for effect. He watched her pull her shoulders back, her eyes blazing. "This isn't about me. This is about _you_. This is about you having some sort of hero complex and wanting to save the poor this damsel in distress. Well guess what? I'm not _in_ distress, Mr. Grey. I'm not some charity case for you."

"I don't see you as a charity case, Ana," he said calmly.

"It's either that or… or… or you're **jealous** ," she spat, her words spewing quickly, her hands flailing around. "Scott and I share an incredible sex life. He's done things to me you've never heard of, fucked me in ways you can't even image," she huffed, then turned bright red as soon as the words left her lips. He could almost see the embarrassment radiating off of her as her strong demeanor crumbled, her squared shoulders falling, her head bowing down in shame.

The silence that surrounded still rung with the words she's last spoke, the air thick as they both sat in awkwardness over what she'd said. Finally Christian cleared his throat uncomfortably. He idly scratched at the back of his neck, which was hot with his own very rare blush at her words.

"It's not a secret that I'm attracted to you, Miss Steele. And while I'm certainly not jealous of the type of relationship Kennedy shares with you, you are correct in assuming I'm envious of the fact that he gets part of your time at all. I would like to get to know you better, and certainly a romantic relationship is in the scope of interests I have where you are concerned, but that all takes a back burner to the fact that I just want to help you. Please just let me _help_ you."

She watched her, but she sat there across from him, unmoving. Her head was still down, hands splayed across her thighs, almost like the day he went into Kennedy's office…

Immediately he was out of his chair, around the table and kneeling down in front of her. He'd read about the sub positions in the information Welch had provided him about BDSM. If that was what she was doing, he wanted no part of it around him.

"Ana," he whispered as he kneeled in front of her, hoping she'd look up at him immediately. However, she stayed perfectly still. "Look at me," he insisted, cupping her cheek and lightly pressing up to tilt her face so she was forced to look at him. But when his thumb swiped her smooth skin, it was met with wetness. She was crying.

"Oh Ana," he sighed, taking her hands in his and clutching them tightly. She didn't return the squeeze, but she didn't pull away from his either. "Please don't cry baby." At that, she let out a sob. His heart ached for her. He could feel the war she was battling within herself. He could tell she felt the tendrils of questions taking root in her, but she was afraid to let them. He hated to always be pushing her so hard, but he felt like he had no choice if he was ever going to get her to be receptive to the fact that she and Kennedy had together wasn't healthy. Eventually he could take things a little slower, get her there a step at a time, get her to talk to John Flynn, who he had met with and had on standby, ready to help Ana as soon as she was ready. But before all of that, he had to gain her trust, and he had to get her thinking. And to do those things, he had to be more forceful that he wished he could be. He had to go with what yielded results.

Slowly her tears subsided, and after a beat she pulled her hands from his and used the heels of her palms to wipe at her damp cheeks. "I have to get to work, Mr. Grey," she said, her voice aiming for impassive but tinged with emotion.

"Ana," he pleaded, willing her to open up him.

"Mr. Kennedy gets upset when I'm late. I'm sure you don't want me to get punished yet again on your behalf."

Christian winced, rocking back on his heels, allowing her room to stand. She rose immediately, her heels clicking across the floor as she walked quickly toward the door. A swirl of thoughts clouded his brain as he watched her smooth, flawless legs flex which each step, thoughts of frustration, sadness, determination, concern and… lust. He wanted desperately help her, as well as to take a real shot at building a real relationship with her. But how do you help someone who doesn't want help? How much could he keep pushing her if all she did was push back against him? What if he was doing more harm than good? What if he was just pushing her further into Kennedy's grasp?

He was so consumed in his own thoughts that he almost missed it: as she grabbed the door handle, she paused for just a moment, turning her head and glancing back over her shoulder at him before pulling it open and exiting the room. It was barely anything, but at the moment, it was everything. He _was_ affecting her in some capacity. And for now, that had to be good enough.

 _ **ANA**_

"Sir?" Ana asked, her fingers stretching wide against her thighs in an effort to keep them from twisting together and showing her nervousness.

"Yes, Ana?" Scott replied distractedly before taking a swig of juice straight from the container in her kitchen. He was still shirtless, but had his work slacks back on, zipped but not buttoned. He was working on a huge deal with Mr. Grey's brother Elliot's construction company, forging ideas for new ways to implement GHI products into furthering the eco-friendly sustainability of his various projects. It was work that was both mentally taxing and exhilarating for Scott. He absolutely loved furthering the directive of impacting the world in a positive way environmentally. It was his passion, his dream to make these kinds of things commonplace, as well as cost effective, and he'd been in his absolute element since signing on with GEH. So the combination of hard work and excitement that went into his job every day had his coming to Ana looking for relief of his pent up high-on-life type of emotions. She was there to help him get the energy out more than the stress. A deal gone right had been getting her into more intense scenes than one gone wrong, as of late. The scenes lately had been very much pleasure-focused. He was taking pride in bringing her body to writhing heights of pleasure over and over, using his control of her pleasure as the catalyst for his. He hadn't really punished her since the night she hurt her arm. Instead he was riding the high of his happiness and using it to push orgasm after orgasm from her in every way imaginable.

"I wanted to discuss with you the possibility of me going back to school," she rushed out in one breath.

Scott paused, the juice jug halfway to his mouth for another chug. His head turned to look at her, his green eyes piecing hers so intensely that she averted her gaze to the floor.

"Why?" he asked, his voice stern, his good mood post-scene gone.

She rolled her shoulder in an awkward shrug, her voice betraying her for a moment as her mouth opened and nothing came out.

"Why Ana?" he asked again, setting the juice on the counter and closing the distance between them.

"You know I always wanted to go to school," she said quietly, losing the fight against her nervousness and wringing her fingers together tightly. "I put it off to be there for you and make GHI a success, and now that it is, I thought… maybe…" she trailed off.

"Is the life I've worked painstakingly hard to provide for you not sufficient, Ana?"

"No," she interjected quickly. "It's nothing like that. I appreciate everything you do for me, give to me. It's just, you know I've always loved books and I always had dreams of going into publishing. GHI was your dream, and you've shown me how going after one's dream can lead to such amazing things. I thought maybe… now would be a good time to start _my_ dream. Sir."

"My dream is to make GHI a success with you by my side, Ana," he said, his voice a low murmur as he circled his arms around her still-naked waist. "I've done that, but this is just the beginning. We're on the cusp of such amazing things. We haven't even seen a fraction of the success we're going to see in the future. And when it happens, I want you there with me," his lips trailed down from her ear to her neck, his thumb gently swirling around her left nipple. "I want to celebrate every moment of it with you. I want to shower you with gifts, with high end clothing, the best quality _everything_. I want to see the world, Ana. And when I do, I want you to see it with me. I want to flog you and fuck you in every major county on Earth. School just doesn't really fit into that right now, okay?"

She opened her mouth to speak, hoping to have more of an actual discussion about it, but he immediately sealed his lips over hers, preventing her from any further conversation on the matter. His kiss was demanding, and she knew in that moment he was telling her not to argue. His decision was already made, no discussion required. He was shutting her down without even really entertaining the idea and the dominant nature of the kiss was telling her there was no room left for argument, that she wasn't to bring it up again.

She felt her chest tighten with emotion at the idea that school was never going to be an option for her, that she was being forced to give up the idea forever. His fingers left her nipple to drag between her legs. On instinct, due to her emotional state, her thighs moved inward, subconsciously rejecting his touch. "Don't," he muttered, his breath hot on her cheek as he paused, giving her a moment to follow his lead and open her legs back up. With a stilted sigh, she did as told, allowing him purchase to her most private area. "Good girl," he commended, his fingers twirling around on what he often called his 'playground'. And as she often did when he wanted to scene while she was upset, she forced herself to turn off her brain and focused on her body.

 **A/N: Short, I know. But it was where I needed to cut it off. And I'm hoping now that I wrapped up Guilty Conscience I can put more focus into Manipulated and update pretty regularly. The only reason this update even took this long is because I got the burst of inspiration to finish GC, then wanted to clean up some spelling/grammar errors in it so I took about a week or so to read it all back over and clean it all up. Then I spent a most of this week taking care of myself and my family who all came down with the flu over a four day span. Otherwise this would have been pushed out a while ago. Anyway, excuses, but there you go. I've almost got the next one done, and have been working on another part, maybe the chapter after that, or the next one. Whatever. But either way, the point is, is I'm actively working on it more often, so updates should be more frequent. Thanks, as always, for reading! XO**

 **A/N2: Okay so I uploaded and then realized I had accidentally left out the whole part of Ana's POV. So I went back and deleted and re-uploaded, so if you got two emails or something wacky, that's why. Sorry.**


	12. Chapter 12

_**CHRISTIAN**_

Christian sat in his study, two fingers of whiskey in the chilled glass to his left. He had just ended an hour and a half long conference with Singapore about fifteen minutes ago, and though his normal routine was to dissect the meeting immediately following its completion, he found his mind couldn't stop wandering to Ana.

It was just after midnight in Seattle and he wondered where she was, what she was doing. Was she safely ensconced in her apartment? _Alone_? Or was _he_ there with her? And if he was, what was he doing? Christian had had Welch pull up as much credible information as he could on BSDM. The last thing he'd wanted to do was trust the internet to give him wholly reliable information, and he didn't want to be misinformed about it either. He wanted to understand what it was Ana was doing, why it appealed to her. But after reading through what Welch had given him, he wasn't convinced that what Ana was doing **was** the legitimate practice of the lifestyle. All the information he read was adamant about informed consent, and that wasn't something Ana had been able to give when Kennedy dragged her down this path.

The amount of texts and emails that had gone unanswered was growing, but Christian wasn't deterred. He wasn't going to force Ana to talk to him. He just wanted to build her trust, prove to her that his intentions were good, and have her come to him willingly. And for that to happen, he needed to be patient. She'd already told him more about her life than she'd ever told anyone before, except Kennedy, obviously. She had to have some level of trust in him to confide in him, even if she didn't realize it yet. Eventually she would come around and contact him again, he just knew it. And he would be there with empathy and understanding when she did. He'd pushed a lot lately. He wanted to give her some time to think over everything he'd brought up so far before pushing any more. If he pushed too much, he was worried it would have the opposite effect, and end up making her shut down on him completely.

But in the meantime, he was finding it a daily struggle not to go down to the twelfth floor and punch Kennedy in the fucking jaw. Luckily he didn't need to see the guy on a daily basis, or he was sure he would have snapped on him by now. But the whole reason Christian had wanted his company to begin with was because he already approved of what they were doing. He'd wanted Kennedy on board so he didn't really have to think about GHI. It would just be another asset to GEH, chugging along every day, making him money and building GEH's ability to grow in the green tech markets.

His phone rang from its position at the edge of his desk. He glanced at the clock, wondering who was calling so late. His heart leapt in his chest when he saw the caller ID.

"Ana?" he answered immediately, standing up at his desk, too filled with adrenaline to sit down.

"Hello, Mr. Grey," she said, though it was hard to hear her. What was all that noise in the background?

"Ana where are you?"

"In line for the bathroom," she said simply.

"In line for the bathroom _where_?" he asked.

"A **bar**. That's right! I went _out_. Like **you** said I never do. So there!" she huffed, then let out a giggle that would have made his dick twitch if it wasn't for the fact that he was concerned about her right now. She sounded off. Was she drunk?

"Are you drunk?"

"I don't know, I've never been drunk before. But if I had to guess, I'd say I'm tipsy. Why do you think they call it tipsy? Is it because you feel like you're going to tip over? Because that makes a lot of sense. I feel like I could tipsy over right now," she said, that damn giggle emanating through the phone again. If he wasn't so concerned, he'd find it fucking adorable. In what limited time he'd known her, he barely got to see Ana smile, let alone hear her laugh. He wished he could hear her laugh often; he wished he could be the one responsible for making her laugh every damn day. But now was not the time to focus on that, he scolded himself.

"Ana, is Kennedy there with you?"

She groaned at that. "No. We don't _go out_ together. And he has no idea I'm out. Ugh, if he finds out, I bet you my car that I won't be able to sit without cringing for a week. Do you have any idea what that man can do with a cane?"

Christian felt his stomach roil at the mental image of Ana bent over while Kennedy thwacked her ass with a cane. God, why anyone would let someone do that kind of stuff to them was completely mind boggling to him.

"Did you drive yourself there?"

"What?" he heard her say muffled. "Oh sorry. Hey Christian? Or… Mr. Grey. Mr. Christian Grey," she rambled, giggling, "I gotta go. It's my turn for the bathroom."

"Ana!—" he tried, but she'd already hung up on him. He tried calling her back, but it just rang a few times before flipping over to voicemail.

Finding Welch's name in his contacts, he pressed the phone icon to place the call which was immediately answered. "I need you to trace the phone that Taylor had you set up anonymously. I need a location on it."

"Yes, sir. I'll forward the information to you in a few minutes," Welch replied.

Disconnecting the call, Christian went to his bedroom to change into some casual clothes. On his way back down the hallway, he stopped at the security suite to get the keys to the R8. When he knocked on the door, Taylor was already pulling it open, obviously having seen him coming on the monitors.

"Sir, is there somewhere you would like me to take you?" he asked.

"No, thank you, Taylor. I have discovered Miss Steele is intoxicated and alone at a bar. Welch is sending me the location information on her phone, and I'm just going to pick her up and make sure she gets home safe."

"You'll call me immediately if any more serious situations arise?" Taylor asked.

"Of course," Christian confirmed, grabbing the key fob and nodding his goodbye to his PPO.

By the time he'd stepped off the elevator into the parking garage, Welch had sent him the location associated with Ana's phone. Plugging it into his GPS, he quickly weaved through the minimal late night Seattle traffic, reaching his destination in about fifteen minutes.

It was a small bar only a couple of blocks from where Ana lived, but it was pretty crowded, obviously geared for a younger crowd. He gained access quickly, flashing his ID to the security guy at the door. As soon as he was inside, he scanned the room, finding Ana almost immediately. She was across the room, leaning over the bar, talking to the bartender. He was smiling at her, a more-than-just-friendly smile which made Christian's eyes narrow in irritation.

She was dressed in jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt, completely casual compared to all the other girls here decked out like they thought it was New Year's Eve or something. But at the same time, those jeans were practically painted on, and the way her ass looked at she bent over the bar ledge was garnering a fair share of the male attention. There was something very appealing about her just natural and easy-going rather than uptight and high maintenance like the rest of the women here. She was simply and easily beautiful even when she was outfitted comparably plain to the competition.

Traversing the relatively small space, he came up behind her, placing his hand gently on her elbow to let get her attention. She snapped her head to the side, looking at him, registering his identity with shock on her face. "Mr. Grey!" she squeaked, pulling back from the bar and turning to face him.

"Christian," he said, "Please, for the love of God stop with the Mr. Grey, Ana," he said with a small smile on his face to let her know he wasn't actually upset.

" _Christian_ ," she drew out, taking the drink the bartender finally handed her, the glare he shot Christian's way going unnoticed by her but not by Christian. She had a playful smile on her lips, one he hadn't been seen before and felt like a lucky man for being able to be witness to it now.

"A water, please," Christian requested, which the bartender slowly and begrudgingly gave him.

"You're not going to drink with me?" Ana asked with a pout before biting her lip to hold back her smirk.

"It's for you," he said, holding the glass out to her, taking the alcoholic drink from which she'd only had a sip, and sliding it back across the bar.

"Hey!" she yelled, reaching for it, but he just pushed the water toward her.

"Please drink it, Ana," he said. "You need it. It'll help with the hangover tomorrow." When she didn't move to take the glass, he fell on a habit that usually got results and decided to use his CEO voice on her. "Drink it. Now."

And just like that, she grabbed the glass and chugged the contents down in a half dozen gulps.

"Let's get out of here," he said, looking around, knowing it was only a matter of time before he would be noticed for being, well, _him_ , here. That in itself he didn't really care about, but if they snapped pictures of him and Ana together, and somehow Scott found out she was here, he didn't want it to lead to punishment for Ana.

"No," she whined. "No one asked you to come here, let alone come here and force me to leave. I want to stay."

"Please, Ana," he asked, looking around, noticing a few glances his way. Shit.

"I don't want to," she pouted like a petulant teenager. He was losing his patience. This was for her own benefit, not his. Surely she didn't want to get caught being out in public, _drunk_ , with _him_. He saw one of the girls who he'd caught glanced at him a couple of time now pull her phone out of her purse and hold it up in his direction. He didn't know for sure that it was to take a picture of him, but he reacted on instinct and quickly he turned his back, shielding Ana from view.

"Ana, we are going. Now," he demanded.

With a hand on her elbow, he directed her away from the bar, and surprisingly, this time she came with no fight, verbal or otherwise. He took advantage and led her straight outside, where the crisp night air seemed to perk her up a bit, edging away her amiability and bringing out her defiance once again. Because as soon as he stepped up to his car, she halted in her steps, shaking her head no at his request to get inside.

"Please get in the car, Anastasia. I want to make sure you get home safe."

"I can just walk. It's only a couple of blocks. That's how I got here in the first place."

"But you had been sober then. And it's later now. And I'm here, offering you a ride. So please," he said, motioning toward the open door once again.

She pursed her lips in this adorable little pout, then said, "What if I don't? What would you do if I turned on my heel and walked away right now?"

"Anastasia," he warned, managing to maintain his stern façade even though inside his libido was humming due to the look she was giving him. He would give almost anything to give in to her flirting right now, anything to grab her and kiss and show her _exactly_ what he wanted to do to her. But she was drunk, and he would not, under any circumstances, take advantage of that. She'd been taken advantage of enough in her life. If and when something could finally happen between them, it would be when he knew she was completely present, wanting and willing.

"Would you punish me?" she goaded, looking up at him through her eyelashes, her big doe eyes innocent while her question was anything but. But that particular comment had a negative effect on him. He certainly did _not_ want to punish her. The mere idea of it made him mad. Her saying it just reinforced the idea that she had rules to follow, and if she went against Kennedy, she was punished for it. It was nothing to her, which she proved by _joking_ about it. But it infuriated Christian to think about Kennedy forcing her to bend to his will with the threat of punishment. Again, he found himself wishing he could punch the fucker in the face.

But he managed to suppress his true reaction, to suppress his temper and to stop himself from going off on this tangent out loud. He'd done too much of that lately- losing his cool, resulting in tirades that came across as him scolding and criticizing her, even though _she_ wasn't what he was mad at. "Car. Now," he said through clenched teeth. This time, mercifully, she listened.

"Yes, sir," she said, listening immediately and sliding into the passenger seat. And he was still fuming to himself while she did. He wasn't Kennedy, and he certainly wouldn't ever punish Ana for anything, let alone something that, at the end of the day, was trivial. She had the right to refuse to get in his car. But he didn't want her to. He wanted her to trust him, to let him take care of her.

He closed the passenger door and felt his anger deflate as soon she was safely ensconced in his car. His mind shifted from thoughts of Kennedy back to thoughts of her and he rounded the back to the driver's side. He didn't like that fact that she put herself in this situation- getting drunk out somewhere alone, where anything could happen to her, where anyone could take advantage of her. It was dangerous he didn't want any harm to come to her. She was so damn naive.

He smiled to himself a little, thinking about how sweet and kind of funny she'd come across while she was drunk. He hadn't been able to see her like this before, flirty and joking. He wanted to enjoy her uninhibited and in a good mood, not closed off and defensive against him like she usually was. God, he was just so _drawn_ to her. He wasn't sure why, what exactly it was about her, but he felt this _pull_ to her, and it was like nothing he'd ever felt for a woman before.

He opened his door, sliding into his seat, lost in thoughts about her as he started the engine and eased his way out of his parking space in front of the bar.

"This is a really nice car," she said once the car started to move.

"Thanks," he grinned cheekily at her. "She's the most special lady in my life."

Ana snorted out a laugh and he chuckled in return.

 _ **ANA**_

They were both silent for a minute, the only noises those of the occasional passing car, the click of the turn signal, the soft sound of Christian's hands as the leather steering wheel slid across his palms whenever it when back to place after making a turn. She'd gone out tonight to... prove something, or something... She had done it under some stupid sense of needing to prove that she _could_ go out and do whatever she wanted to. Between Christian's recent and seemingly constant digs at her over how she lived her life under Scott's rules, and then Scott shutting down her idea of going back to school earlier this evening... she'd just felt this impulse that she couldn't explain that had told her to go out and do something on her own without telling Scott about it. That had somehow apparently translated to her ending up drinking in a bar. She still wasn't sure why she'd called Christian, and she certainly hadn't expected him to show up. And yet, here she was, in his car with him.

Her apartment wasn't far, so she knew she only had a few minutes left with him before they got there. The alcohol had definitely emboldened her, and she found herself wanting to make the most of the little time they had left together. There were words she'd been dying to ask him dancing on the tip of her tongue. And this was the perfect opportunity for her to ask him the question she'd had on her mind. It was a perfect storm of alcohol-induced poor-decision-making and limited-time-frame with quickly-approaching-easy-escape that pushed her to go through with it.

"Can I ask you something inappropriate? Like- wildly inappropriate so that I can blame it on having too much to drink?"

He gave her a sideways smirk, then nodded before looking back at the road. "Shoot."

"What's wrong with you?"

His eyebrow arched in question. "I don't know what you mean…"

"I just mean… It's ridiculous, you know? Look at you! You have _everything_. You're not just smart, you're extremely intelligent, insightful, and shrewd. And your company wasn't just handed to you, you put your blood, sweat and tears into it to build it from the ground up. And you're not just successful, not just a millionaire, you're a multi-billionaire. But of course you don't just sit on your piles of money, you're philanthropic and give it away hand over fist to countless amazing charities. Anonymously. You're not an asshole, which you could be and people would still flock to stand in your wake. But no, you have an amazing heart. You're sweet, kind, generous to a fault, and so goddamn charming. So at the very least, you should be ugly. But you're not. And you're not just attractive, you're unbearably handsome, literally the most gorgeous man I've ever seen, in real life, on TV or in magazines. So what is it, huh? What's Christian Grey's flaw? Do you have a small dick or something? Because seriously, _something_ has to be wrong with you. People like you don't just exist. You can't have it all. It's not fair to the rest of us," she huffed.

"Well, I can't cook to save my life," he led after a beat with a half shrug and an unapologetic smile. Ana rolled her eyes in a humorous way. So he couldn't cook. So what? He probably had a Michelin star chef who waited around his home all day to cook him tiny little pretentious meals covered in foam or whatever the hell rich people ate. She was about to say as much when she saw a shadow cross his face and his smirk drop.

Again his eyes found her quickly, his lips turning up at the corners in a sad smile. He let out a little sigh before speaking. "But seriously, I get the look from the outside. It's easy to assume I have it all when you look at my life. When I was younger, that idea was the exact reason I aspired to be everything I became. I had a rough start to life. I knew what it was like to be cold and hungry, hurt and alone. I always knew that if I worked hard enough, I could be successful. I could build something successful and make a ton of money and buy heat and food. I just knew I would be happy, because I thought I could _buy_ happiness. For a while, I did think I had it all. I was successful. I wanted for nothing; there was nothing I couldn't afford to buy. I had lots of friends, I had lots of women. It felt like I had it all. Everyone thinks I have it all.

"But it's hard to meet someone genuine, when you live a life like mine. A lot of women are in it for because if my name, not who I am. They see the money and they see a payday. It's hard to find someone I can trust, to find someone I think actually likes me for who I am. I've been burned before, thinking I knew a woman, knew friends who turned out to be using me, or just two-faced. It's happened so many times that I have a hard time trusting anyone anymore."

He paused speaking for a moment, and it was only then that Ana realized they'd pulled into her apartment parking lot. As soon as he shifted the car into park, he turned to look her dead in the eyes, his face serious. And sad. "But I don't have it all. I'm lonely. Because at the end of the day, when I leave my super successful office, while my family and friends go home to _their_ loved ones, **I** drive my nice cars back to my fancy home and I crawl into bed alone. Sure, occasionally there's a warm body to accompany me, but never anyone I care about. And in the middle of the night, it's glaringly obvious how empty my life is. And I'm sick of being alone. I want someone to share it all with. I want _love_. So, though I'm not sorry to say it's not my dick size that is my downfall, you are right, there is something about me that's not perfect: I'm agonizingly lonely."

"Shit," she whispered, the moment very sobering, her system feeling suddenly flushed of any remaining alcohol. She looked at him intently, like she was really seeing him for the first time. And in a way, she was. She was seeing this side of him for the first time. And it was so raw and real that it spoke to her on a deep level. She got it. She understood what loneliness could do to you on the inside. She'd been there once. Maybe she still was. She turned her body to face him, subconsciously mirroring his posture. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about," he said with that same sad smile, leaning his head back against his headrest and tilting his head back, his eyes shutting. "I'm mostly used to it by now. Some days it's crippling, but some days I don't even feel it."

His head shook back and forth slowly as he kept speaking from the heart. Under the parking lot lights she could see his cheeks darken a shade and he looked almost embarrassed. "Up until now, I hadn't found anyone who made my heart beat faster or my palms sweaty or made butterflies flit around in my stomach. I started to think that was all fairy tale bullshit, that it didn't happen in real life. But **you** , you do those things for me. And that's why I've been so adamant about pursuing you. There's just something about you. I just want to get to know you better. You're beautiful, but also passionate and genuine and—I—" But he didn't get to finish his sentence as he was cut off by her lips latching onto his fiercely. She didn't make the conscious decision to climb into his lap and attack his lips with her own, but that was where she'd currently found herself—astride Christian Grey in the driver's seat of his Audi R8.

He reacted immediately, kissing her back roughly. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced. The feeling of his hands in her hair, on her face… hers wrapped around his neck, their tongues battling for space. She'd never been kissed like this by Scott. _Nothing_ like this.

His hands descended slowly down her spine before hooking around her torso, his palms on her hips as his fingertips dug into her waist. He tugged her down onto him at the same time his hips lifted ever-so-slightly to press between her thighs, forcing a moan from the back of her throat. _Nope. Nothing small about that._ She felt the shock through her pelvis, the sheer pleasure radiating through her, but rather than further turning her on, it was like a bucket of ice water down her back. She immediately realized what she was doing and hastily pulled away.

"Oh my God," she said, panic clear across her face and in her voice. "I can't believe we- **I** just did that. I have to go," she said desperately, pushing away from him, tugging frantically at the car's door handle.

"But—"

"No. No but. I have to go. This was a huge mistake." She pushed the door open with such force it bounced back on its hinges a little bit as she yanked her purse up off the passenger side floor and scrambled off of his lap and out into the parking lot. She was wiping at her lips, as if she could wipe away the invisible evidence of their kiss. She kissed him. _She_ kissed _him_. She'd never initiated a kiss before, not even with Scott. But she'd been the one to pounce on Christian. It was her fault.

She didn't look back, didn't answer him as he called out to her in shock from the seat of his car, door still ajar. She just scrambled into her building, into her apartment, where she shut the door and locked it before sliding down onto the floor in defeat.


	13. Chapter 13

_**ANA**_

The next morning she was in a fog. The night had been a long one. The alcohol she'd consumed, the lack of sleep, and every emotion under the sun, it had left her fuzzy-brained and confused. What had happened? How had she… _She'd kissed him_. She'd kissed Christian. It didn't feel real. She might have thought it was a dream, if she had actually slept last night. But she hadn't, not really. She's spent the whole night in a perpetual state of nausea, again a combination of the alcohol and her emotions.

It was four o'clock when she gave up on the idea of sleep altogether. She pattered barefoot into the kitchen, opening the cabinet and removing the bag of expensive coffee from the shelf. She wasn't a coffee drinker, in fact, she hated it, but she was going to need it today. Thankfully she always had it in stock for Scott.

Scott.

She was being consumed by the guilt her actions had caused. God, she was an idiot. What was she thinking, going out alone last night? Breaking the rules? She never broke the rules! If he found out, there would be hell to pay in the form of welts on her ass and a body tensed to brinks of orgasms that would never be reached. She was sick of the punishments. She hadn't been punished this much in years. And it was easy to blame the recent string of them on Christian and his actions, but last night was all her. All she could do was hope and pray that Scott never found out about it.

She sneered at herself as soon as she finished the thought. Her sudden selfishness was appalling to her. All she was concerned about was avoiding punishments? What about disappointing Scott? Wasn't that the main issue here? That she'd done something she knew would upset him? And for what? Because he said she couldn't go to school? Because he wanted her at his side while what they'd worked so many years for finally came to full fruition? Was that _so_ bad? Her stomach tightened in a little knot, but she dismissed it.

Did she feel better, now that she'd gone out and gotten drunk at a club by herself? No. No, it didn't help. Because that wasn't even something she was interested in doing! If she was going to break the rules, it should have been at least over something she actually felt was missing. _Like going to school_ … She scoffed at herself. _Get over it Ana, it's not going to happen_. She needed to let that dream die.

With a sigh, she poured herself a cup of coffee, slowly mixing in some milk and a little sugar in order to attempt to make it palatable.

Going out and drinking would be the least of her problems if Scott ever found out she'd kissed another man. She couldn't imagine his reaction if he ever knew. She'd never kissed someone outside of Scott. He'd been her first and only everything up until last night. She'd never felt another man's erection pressed against her. No man had had his hands on her body. Now those things were no longer true.

She took a sip of the coffee, staring absently at the spotless countertop in front of her.

Christian's lips on hers had been so different. Ana enjoyed kissing Scott, there was no denying that. But he was always… urgent. His mouth always groped with authority, feeling what it wanted to, when it wanted to, with gruff, mauling need. Christian's lips were gentler. They molded to hers. They were firm and eager, but at the same time, soft and accepting. There was give and take with him. Not just take. Kissing Christian was...She absentmindedly touched her bottom lip gently with her index finger.

Snapping out of it, Ana scolded herself for once again getting lost in thoughts of kissing Christian. It was stupid. She was being so stupid. What she'd done last night was embarrassing, throwing herself at Christian like that. Men didn't like it when women took the lead, she knew that much. She was surprised he'd even allowed her the moments of kissing they had before she'd come to her senses. He should have been repulsed by her blatant, hussy-like behavior. Maybe he was just being nice since he knew she was drunk. She was honestly surprised that he hadn't thrown her off.

But. He didn't really _seem_ to hate it. He got hard, right? That was the indicator, right? Sometimes Scott seemed to be mad at her, or seemed so indifferent, or seemed so… whatever. But Ana always knew that she had his approval because he was hard. He may have seemed unhappy, or angry, or aloof, or impassive, but when he took out his dick, it proved he was actually pleased with her because he was still able to get hard for her. And that was the important thing. If she turned him off, that was when they would have a problem. How could she please him if she couldn't get him aroused? It proved her value. Because if there ever came a time where she couldn't please him sexually, it would make her worthless.

She knew she would see him tonight, and she vowed to herself, right then and there, that she would be absolutely perfect for him when she did. It would be the way she would unknowingly make up for her indiscretion last night. She would prove her dedication to him by reaffirming to herself that she was his submissive. It wasn't much, and only she would really notice. But there was little else she could do.

Unless… She set down her coffee cup, taking a deep breath to clear her head. There was one thing she could do for him.

Breath play.

Since around the age of four, Ana had always had a fear of strangulation. Obviously no one wants to actually be strangled, but she had an active fear of it. It all started one night while having a dream of a big, calloused hand gripping her throat and squeezing until she couldn't breath. That first time, when she woke up, she could still feel the pain of it on her neck, the pressure on her windpipe, the wild heartbeat and heavy breathing that had accompanied the panic. It had felt so real in her dream, still felt real even after waking up. She'd heard her mom awake and yelling in the living room, then heard the front door slam. When it was quiet and she'd regained her equilibrium, she'd gone to Carla in tears, and told her about the dream, her voice even sounding funny when she talked.

She remembered being confused by Carla's reaction, as she'd just insisted over and over that it was just a dream. Ana had always thought that was odd. She knew it had to be a dream, because she'd woken up from it, right? But what she'd been looking for, and what Carla hadn't really offered, was any comfort from the nightmare. She just seemed relieved that Ana knew it was a dream. Ever since, she'd spent the occasional night reliving the nightmare, reliving the full panic consuming her mind and body, but it had never felt as real as it had that first night. She couldn't stand the feeling of things touching her throat. When choker necklaces were all the rage, she couldn't even bear the thought of wearing one.

So when Scott had brought up the idea of 'choking' and what he described as 'breath play', she had be adamant that it was a hard limit. Over the years, after he gained her trust, and she'd allowed him access to her throat. First, gentle touch; kisses, licking. Eventually she trusted him to touch her, then with more time, collars, as well as to actually increasing the pressure of his fingers around her. The furthest she'd ever allowed him to go was holding her throat in his hand with a wide, firm but gentle grasp. Never actually compressing, never _choking_. That was a step too far.

And breath play was steps beyond that. It's name was actually somewhat misleading. Because it wasn't about _breathing_ really; it was about blood flow. It was about restricting blood flow to the brain, causing lightheadedness to increases sensation during sex, and then releasing the pressure, causing a rush of oxygen to the brain, resulting in an intense euphoria. On paper, it made sense to her. But in reality, all she could do was close her eyes and imagine that big, calloused hand on her neck and panic.

But, for him, now, could she do it? Could she take breath play off her hard limits in order to prove trust and dedication to him? Could she gift him that in order to reaffirm her commitment to him and their relationship in the face of what she'd done, had been doing, behind his back with Christian? Scott didn't deserve her sneaking around behind his back, talking with Christian, accepting gifts, seeing him. But to have kissed him? Let him touch her? It was so disrespectful. And it was eating at her. Would participating in breath play with him ebb that guilt she was feeling? She did trust him not to take it too far. She _had_ to. Otherwise...

She sighed, shaking her head. She was such a mess.

She forced the again recurring thought of Christian Grey's lips to remain fleeting in her mind. He hadn't earned this space in her mind. Scott deserved better than this from her. Taking a deep breath, she stood up straight, strengthening her resolve. He would come over tonight, she was sure. And when he did, she would be ready and willing to give him the dedication he deserved from her.

* * *

 _ **TAYLOR**_

He pulled his hood up, his thumb and forefinger pinching the edge and tracing it down on both sides, from the top to the neck. When they met with the strings, he grabbed hold, tugging them, causing the whole thing to wrinkle and tighten, further obscuring his face from view. He had on sunglasses as well, though the sun was dipping down and would be gone in mere minutes.

He's debated wearing gloves, the kind with the fingertips cut off, but he wanted to feel it. He wanted the pleasure of feeling his fist connect with its target.

His clothes were baggy, helping to obscure the exact shape of his body. And black. He was in all black, including the neoprene ski mask that was covering the bottom half of his face.

It had been weeks now that he'd been trying to get someone tangible on Kennedy, something to nail his ass to the wall. But nothing. No other victims in his past. He had worked for another school system in another town for 20 plus years, but had had a proper letter of resignation and exemplary references from them to Montesano High. His file said he was simply moving on to a more lucrative position, which when Taylor had tracked his earnings, had proven to be the truth. He'd hoping to find something—a scandal. A school having caught him and covered it up, something, anything to prove he'd done this before and to help prove he'd done it again. But nothing. He was squeaky fucking clean. So Taylor started looking into anything else he could to find dirt on this guy. He already knew the company was clean; Mr. Grey's people would have fully vetted it before offering to buy it up. So he followed up on Kennedy's personal financials—tax information- anything. But, again it was a dead end. He called in favors and dug into his past, looking for inconsistencies, anything to show he'd ever had something covered up, or something _to_ cover up. He looked for sealed adolescent records, but there were none. He tried everything he could think of to find skeletons in Kennedy's closet. He'd practically hired an excavation crew to go blindly digging, leaving no stone unturned, but there was nothing to be found.

And the longer Taylor went without finding anything, the more pissed off he got. Did this guy just not leave a trail, or was he truly clear of touching anyone else besides Ana? Hell, he couldn't find any real trail on _Ana_. Nothing to connect them prior to her eighteenth birthday besides the fact that he was her teacher. The one thing he did find, which was nothing incriminating, was a picture in the high school yearbook that Taylor had pulled from the Montesano Public Library. There they were together, a young, skinny little Ana standing next to Kennedy for some Science Club he was in charge of. She was working on something, surrounded by test tubes and other chemistry related paraphernalia, and Scott was leaning over the lab table, pointing at what she was doing. Taylor wished he could say there was something about the picture that seemed off. A closeness between the two, maybe an inappropriately places hand, or look. Something that could have sent a red flag to someone along the way. But the truth was, there wasn't. It just looked like a science teacher teaching a student.

When nothing illegal panned out, Taylor had hoped to find a trail to other _legal_ women, something to go off of. Maybe someone he'd kept in contact with from his past, or at the very least, another woman to bring to Ana and say—hey look, the asshole was sleeping with someone else while he was with you, he's a liar—just… anything that might prompt her to get away from him.

He hadn't told Grey, but he had someone watching Kennedy, so he knew when he was going to Ana's place, or when she was going to his. And it was fucking _often_ … no pun intended. He'd roll up in his nice Beemer, a smirk on his face as he walked confidently into her building, coming back out hours later with a shit-eating grin, usually minus his jacket and tie, hair unruly, looking _well_ worn.

Sometimes, because he was oblivious to being watched, he would get bold and fuck with her out in public. He'd take her in a car or in a hallway. Sawyer, the guy he had watching her, had pulled footage from both his and her apartment's elevators and cringed when he saw what he got up to with her in there. It seemed Kennedy had a thing for the emergency stop button. He liked to use the elevators as his own personal quickie-suite. And Ana always just held completely still and took it; let him do whatever he wanted to her. Taylor couldn't bear to watch, and knew Grey wouldn't want him to, but Sawyer had reported Kennedy had once eaten out her asshole, honest to god, her asshole, _in the elevator_. Just ordered her to turn around and put her hands on the railing while he lifted her skirt, spread her cheeks and went to town. Jerked himself off while he did it, then came _in_ her ass. Smacked it, put her skirt back down and followed her into her place, where he spent the next three hours. What do you do to a woman for three hours after you've already eaten her asshole, then fucked it? Christ.

Taylor had a daughter. His Sophie was still a kid, still just his little baby girl. But some day, she would be a teenager, and then an adult, and when she was forty and had lived enough of life to know how to make smart decisions, she could date and eventually find an educated and respectable man to marry. Forty-five. Ish. Fifty, maybe. …Anyway. He could not fathom what would happen if his baby girl was taken advantage of by one of her teachers. At fif-fucking-teen. And then to be held down for years on end, having her whole life stifled in order to keep her around to be his personal sex slave. To be available at every beck and call to service his dick, so he could take her on elevators and to eat her— _Nope_. Taylor couldn't even think those words in relation to his baby girl. No. One. Would. Ever. God, what he would do to anyone who ever touched his baby girl like that. He was almost salivating thinking of the possibilities.

Which made him really wonder about this Ray Steele guy. The background check showed he seemed like a good man- a former _army_ man. Why didn't he do anything? Did he know? He **couldn't** _know_. But how could he not sense something was wrong? How could he not question why she wasn't going to college, why she was forgoing a college education to work as a secretary for her teacher who just so happens to quit the moment she graduates, then whisks her off to another city to work? There were so many red flags, the whole thing was wrapped in them and tied with a fucking red-flag-bow.

…So many questions. So few answers.

It had Taylor on edge for sure. Normally he liked his job. Grey was a good man. Relatively easy going on his staff. Professional and courteous with them. He kept his orders succinct and trusted Taylor to handle things the way he saw fit. He said his please and thank-you's to Gail, which went a long way in Taylor's opinion of him, biased or not, since Gail was his future wife. He didn't go out getting into trouble. He was as mature and responsible as a 27 year old could be. Maybe too much so. He too often kept himself from the rest of the world, never going out with friends for the occasional drinking binge. The guy barely went out at all. If anything, he invited people into his home where he could ensure nothing could sully his or GEH's name by being spread in a tabloid. He didn't go out schmoozing with loose women, throwing down hundreds like they were singles, drinking until he couldn't stand up. No, he stayed up at nights trying to figure out how to feed the poor, occasionally having his brother over for beers and a Mariner's game, and every once in awhile respectably sharing his bed with a woman, always seeing her off with a pleasant smile and a thanks-for-a-good-time.

Taylor kept fit exercising daily with the boss, he was well paid and, even though it was the staff quarters, he wanted for nothing regarding the quality of life at Escala. He had his baby girl, the apple of his eye, a good woman, a good job… a good life.

But ever since Ana Steele had entered Christian's life, things had changed. His boss was, to put it nicely, preoccupied with Miss Steele. And this preoccupation had pushed him to actually pursue the girl, who seemingly did not want to be pursued. Not that that stopped the boss. Taylor wasn't surprised. If the boss saw something he wanted, he got it. Truthfully, Taylor thought it was funny that Miss Steele even put up a fight. Most women would happily get on their hands and knees to be with him. It was nice, refreshing to see someone cause him to lose a little edge of that well-deserved ego for a change.

Of course, Taylor only felt that way _before_. Before he found out why Miss Steele refused him, what Miss Steele was really up to. And now he was fully sided with the boss. Now he wanted to do anything he could to get her to see the light of day, to get her away from the scumbag she worked for, and let the boss help her. But that was proving much more difficult than he'd hoped it to be.

And now he was just fucking annoyed. And that consistent annoyance was what brought him to the back of Ana's apartment building at sunset, his face covered in a ski mask, waiting. His hands were shoved in his pockets and he was tucked discreetly out of sight. When he first started entertaining the idea of doing this a couple of days ago, he'd dismissed it right away. Then, it had come back, and he thought about it a little longer. Then, over the course of a couple of days, he started forming a plan. **If** he were to do it, _how_ would he do it? Where would the best location be? Where would he hide? How would he dress? What _exactly_ would he do?

And once the plan was formed, he realized it wasn't enough to just fantasize about doing it. Of course he would go through with it. It was far too enticing not to. He did debate having someone else do it for him, but the temptation of doing it himself was far too strong to consider it for long.

When he'd gotten the update from Sawyer that Kennedy was at Miss Steele's late this evening, he knew he could make his move under the cloak of impeding darkness. So he'd told the boss he needed a couple hours off, to call Reynolds if anything came up. He never asked for little segments of time during the day, so Grey had looked at him a little curiously, but had nodded in agreement. He hadn't told anyone where he was going, what he was planning to do. Gail didn't even know he was off the clock.

The back door to her building swung open and Kennedy stepped out, looking his usual after spending time with her. He was oblivious to his surroundings as usual. He never knew someone was watching him, never got that feeling some people get, never stopped to glance around and see if he was being seen. It was quite ballsy, actually, the way he just walked in and out of Ana's place like he owned it. _Well, he did fucking own it, didn't he?_ Taylor wondered why he was so confident about seeing her. Was it just because he'd gotten away with it for so many years that he'd gotten complacent? Or did he just not _really_ care anymore since Ana was legal and had no friends or family around to even question her? Because Taylor was sure there was a time, when Kennedy was still Ana's teacher, that he was **very** careful about how he went about _seeing_ her.

With his back to Taylor, Kennedy walked to his car, whistling lowly to himself, his key ring hooked around his finger as he swung it in circles.

He never saw Taylor coming.

With a tap on his shoulder, Kennedy's whistling was cut short as he pivoted to see who was trying to get his attention. He only had a second to react, a second he used up letting his eyes go wide in surprise at the masked man behind him.

A second later, he was on the ground.

Taylor grunted as he shook out his hand, the pain radiating from his knuckles where they'd landed the blow to Kennedy's jaw. Taylor cocked his head to the side, his neck cracking in satisfaction, a deep sense of true gratification coursing through his veins. Fuck, that was nice.

He looked down at Kennedy, laid out on the ground, completely out cold.

Well fuck, he hadn't planned on knocking the guy unconscious. Just, you know, leaving a mark. Rolling his eyes at the situation, he sighed, then looked around. He crouched down, smacking the asshole on the face a couple of times, trying to bring him back around. After the second smack, he put a little extra juice behind the third one, accidentally-on-purpose hitting the part of his jaw he's punched. Kennedy finally moved, then groaned, so Taylor stood up, leaving him to it.

He moved swiftly back behind the building, removing his mask, lowering his hood and removing the sunglasses, before making his way around the building and back to where his car was parked a couple of blocks over. It wasn't until he got to the vehicle that his phone vibrated, and when he looked at it, he saw a text from Luke Sawyer.

 **Hey boss, I'm the one watching his shit, I should have been the one with the pleasure of that hit.**

Taylor smirked, tossing his gear into the backseat before replying.

 **Boss' perk.**

* * *

 _ **Christian**_

Christian clenched and unclenched his fists, just once, staring blankly ahead. On the outside, he looked almost completely impassive, like he was just leisurely relaxing in his living room. But on the inside, he was a chaotic mix of wonderful and terrible emotions.

Sometimes it was hard to be such a logic-focused person. It was hard to have his brain telling him why Ana had bolted, talking himself down, explaining why it was reasonable to expect her to be so cagey. It was very hard to be able to extract himself from the emotional side of things and understand on a logical level why Ana behaved the way she did. It was hard because his emotions were also running rampant, and he wanted to be thrilled that she kissed him, be furious that she left, be upset, be hurt, be… everything. But in the moments when he could let himself run with those varied emotions, his brain was always there to eek it's way into his emotional sandstorm and say, "Hey buddy, calm down. You know what she's been through, what she's still going through. This will not be an easy road, and at this point and time, you can't hold these kinds of things against her. You need to be patient."

But being patient was not a thing Christian Grey did well. Especially when it meant having to constantly take steps back from a situation as fucked up as this. How he wished he could swoop in and physically remove her from this situation, giftwrap her an apartment, a car, an education, and whatever else she wanted, and scrub Scott Kennedy from the face of the earth so she never had to worry about him again.

But this situation was not that easy. Kennedy's hooks were in her so deeply, she didn't even realize he was a bad force in her life. If he wanted any chance of actually helping her, of pulling her out of all of this and helping her find her own place in life, he needed to keep working on it gently, allowing her to come to terms with what Scott really was on her own. He could tell her that he was a pedophilic, manipulative asshole until he was blue in the face, but she would never be able to move on and be healthy until she made those realizations for herself. She had to want to get out.

She needed therapy, he was still adamant about that. Luckily Taylor had been able to easily locate his old therapist, John Flynn, who was still located here in Seattle. Christian had spoken to him and briefed him of the situation. He had agreed to be on standby for the moment when Ana was ready to talk. He'd urged Christian to get her in as soon as possible. But Christian knew he didn't have enough leverage to be trying to force her into anything. Their relationship was still tenuous as best. He could not lose her during some self-proclaimed valiant attempt at strong arming her into getting help. He needed to keep paring down her outer wall, keep breaking her defenses until he not only gained enough of her trust, but also raised enough questions in her to spark a desire for her to seek answers about the nature of her relationship.

So in the meantime, Christian was stuck in limbo, not knowing how much was too much, not knowing what to trust regarding her reactions to him, to them. He'd unsuccessfully tried communicating with her this morning via text, deliberately omitting the fact that they'd kissed in his message and opting to just ask how she was doing, if she needed anything. Even though it made his chest swell (among other parts of him) he knew better than to provoke Ana with the memories of them kisses. It happened, and he was happy it happened, but he wouldn't pressure her about its meaning. Right now, he would hang it in the back of his mind as a reason to possibly have hope for them in the future, but it wasn't the thing to focus on. He knew that. _Logically_. Because that was the way his damn brain worked.

The elevator dinged, announcing an arrival and pulling him from his thoughts. The doors slid open and revealed Taylor, who was looking down at his right hand, flexing and unflexing his fingers before shaking them out. He was oddly dressed in dark sweats and a hooded sweatshirt, similar to his normal workout clothes, though Taylor rarely wore long sleeves while running. He seemed to be carrying some other small items of clothing, and sunglasses. Christian had given him a few hours off to- what? Go to the gym?

He finally looked up from his hand to see Christian sitting on the sofa watching him, and he actually startled a little. "Sir," he said immediately. "Good evening."

"Good evening, Taylor," Christian said slowly, watching him curiously.

Taylor stood a little straighter, albeit with hesitation, something which was again very abnormal. "I'm back. If you need anything…" he trailed off.

Christian just nodded, and with that, Taylor turned and made his exit from the main apartment to the area he shared with Gail. Christian shook his head dismissively, and then he too left the living room to go get some work done, and try, but most likely fail, to figure out what he would do or say the next time he got the chance to speak to Ana.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I really don't like the idea of having an pre-chapter explanatory AN, but I also feel you guys deserve it. I said at the beginning of this story that sex between Ana and Scott would not be detailed out, as I didn't see a benefit of it to the story. Well, in this chapter that changed. I saw a benefit of it, and I hope you can forgive me this one scene where it comes to you from Scott's POV. That's been part of my struggle and why it's taken me almost a month to update this. Because I've been waffling back and forth on who, what, when, where, why and how I would or could present this to you guys. But here it is. This picks up where Ana's POV left off in the last chapter, before Scott gets punched by Taylor. It's graphic, but necessary, I feel, to show the dynamic of these two. If you chose not to read that part, as I'm sure some of you might, know that the end of his POV is about his background, so you may want to at least check that out. And in the next chapter, I will cover the aftermath of all this for Ana.**

 **Remember: A huge piece of this story is the power Scott has over Ana, and this is the big catalyst for Ana to start to see the light. So I hope you guys can take it with a grain of salt, and realize that it was never going to be easy for Ana to come to terms with her life, and therefore it probably won't be easy for you to read the things that start to bring her there. On a positive note, in order to tackle this properly, I had to write the next chapter as well, so I should be done editing and ready to post it soon. Hopefully that chapter will get anyone who is uncertain about this chapter back on track with me, once they see where I went with it and why.**

 _ **ANA**_

On her knees, she waited for Scott to arrive. She knew any minute now, he would walk through that door and she would offer to break her hard limit of breath play for him. She felt the anxiety begin to overwhelm her. Already she could feel the tight grip on her throat and it was making the panic bloom in her chest.

Taking in several deep breaths in a row, she forced her heart rate to slow and for her mind to calm. No. She needed to do this. _Be strong, Ana._

Hearing the key slide into the lock on her door, she straightened up, making sure her stance was perfect before he swung the door open and set eyes on her.

"Anastasia," he greeted her immobile form. She heard the usual sounds of him kicking off his shoes, tossing his keys and wallet on her end table, and the shuffling of clothing.

"Stand," he commanded, and she did, rising in one fluid motion up off her knees. She was completely naked, just the way Scott had ordered her to be via text message before he came over. He always told her what to wear, down to the last detail. Sometimes it was a full outfit, sometimes undergarments, sometimes nothing at all.

He crouched down in front of her, crossing into her field of vision as he inspected her knees. There were bright red spots on them from where she'd been kneeling on the hard floor waiting for him. He cupped the back of her calves and ran his thumbs over the marks, humming his approval. His hands dragged up the backs of her thighs as he leaned forward and buried his nose between her legs. "Mmm, Ana," he groaned, leaning back and standing again, his fingers nimbly undoing first the cuffs of his shirt, and then the shirt itself.

"How does your shoulder feel?" he asked quietly, pressing a few kisses to the round of it.

"It feels good, Sir," she responded.

"Good," he muttered against her skin. "Up for some arm bondage, then? I've missed tying you up completely."

"Yes, Sir," she agreed.

"I'd like to do a little role play this evening. I'm thinking…" he paused in thought, then the pitch of his voice went up with his excitement, "I'm thinking prison. And inmate/guard scenario. You're sweet and innocent and I promise to protect you from the others in exchange for sex. You are fearful of prison, so you agree, but you are unhappy about it. I want you to pretend you're not enjoying it. I'm feeling particularly rough tonight. I'd like to hear lots of begging, and I don't want to have to stop and ask for it, understood?"

"Yes, Sir," she agreed. Scott loved role play scenarios. From strippers to burglaries, from maids to pretending she was his best friend's whore of a wife, she had played many a part in their scenes over the years.

He was quick to grab her and lead her to her room where they kept all the tools of the trade, including sex toys, punishment implements, bondage equipment and a plethora of costumes. Along the way he loosened his tie, yanking it up over his head and tossing it on the ground behind them as they walked.

"Take out the handcuffs. And get some rope ready," he instructed her once they were in her room. He stood watching her intently as she opened the chest of drawers and pulled the items out. Her hands were shaky as she continued to talk herself up to let him know about the adjustment to her hard limit. _Just do it, Ana._

When she turned back to him, she sucked in a quick deep breath.

"Sir-" but he shot her a hard glare.

"Did I ask you to speak, inmate?" Her mouth snapped shut and her whole body deflated as she released a breath.

"No, Sir," she responded.

"If you expect me to take care of you in here, you need to learn to listen and do exactly as I say…"

Scott grabbed her by the arm and slammed her against the wall, twisting her wrist behind her back. "You speak when spoken too, do you understand me?"

"Sir," she said, hesitating for only a moment before she just blurted out. "Breath play."

Scott froze, his slightly more aggressive tone faltering. "What?"

"Breath play, Sir," she whispered against the wall. "I'm moving it to my soft limits for this evening."

In an instant she was flipped, her back against the wall as his hands came to rest on either side of her head, his muscular arms flexing as he pressing his weight on his hands.

"Like how?" he asked, his complete attention focus on her- he was noticeably turned on at the mere mention, which fueled her confidence.

"However Sir wants," she said, earning a barely audible groan from him.

"Why now?"

"To please you, Sir."

"You always _please_ me, Ana. You don't need to break a hard limit to please me. So again I ask, why now?"

"Does it matter?" She asked, snippier than she intended to be. She just wanted to get this over with. Scott raised a warning eyebrow, but let it slide.

"Yes it matters, Ana. People don't just go breaking their hard limits on a whim. I need to know your motivation for this, to know if it's truly something safe to explore with you."

She pulled her lip into her mouth biting down hard for a second before releasing it. "I've displeased you in the recent past. More so than in any amount of time since we've been together. I want to prove my loyalty to you, my trust in you. And I want to reaffirm your trust in me."

He nodded slowly in understanding. It was no secret that things has been a little strained between them recently. So she knew her explanation would make sense to him. If they didn't have trust, what did they have? She needed to get them back on track so she could get her life back on track. And he would respect the fact that she was taking the initiative to prove this to him with something so precious.

"You're sure?" he questioned again.

"Yes," she breathed immediately, making her sound completely confident.

"God, Ana, you are phenomenal."

He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers in a deep and intense kiss. It was reverential. He kept her like that for quite a length of time, kissing her, consuming her. She hadn't been kissed like this by him in so long, not since she was a teenager and still learning.

"Change of plans," he mumbled against her mouth before his lips trailed down her jaw, and around to her ear. "I want to do an intruder scene instead. If we're finally going to do this, we're going to do it right."

She felt a mini wash of dread come over her. She normally liked the intruder scene, it was hot. The false sense of danger, the threat, the struggle. It was a fantasy she'd indulged many times for him, and she'd always enjoyed it. But with the added notion of choking, it scared her a little. He'd said he was in a rough mood. What if things got out of hand?

No.

This whole thing was to prove trust right? So she had to trust him, to trust that he would know when to stop, when it was too much. She was letting him explore this limit of hers- _explore_ it. She had to trust him enough not to push it too far. He knew exactly how she felt about being choked. He cared about her. He wouldn't do anything to hurt her. And if all else failed, she had her safewords to protect her.

"Get dressed in that silk nightgown I bought you last month. Be up and moving in your room or the bathroom."

"Yes, Sir," Ana said, turning toward her bureau to find the white, lace trimmed nightie.

"And Ana," Scott said, turning back to her from the doorway. She looked up at him and his eyes were glowing with excitement. "Fight me." And he was gone.

 _ **SCOTT**_

Scott wished she hadn't just thrown this at him with no warning. This was something he'd always wanted from her, and he wished he could take him time with it, plan it out in full detail. But he wasn't about the pass up the opportunity. If she was willing to do this, he was going to do it. And being that this was something he had always loved and had always been good at, he was sure he could make her love it too, if she'd only ever given him the chance. Well this was that chance, and if he could just show her how pleasurable it could be, then next time he could take the time to plan it out fully. This would just have to suffice for now.

He waited in her living room, psyching himself up for it. The adrenaline was pumping through his veins and he could practically taste the anticipation on his tongue. He'd grabbed a backpack from her closet, prepacked with various things he liked to use during this kind of scene. It was something he liked to do often enough, pretending to be an intruder. Something about it just did it for him. The power was thrilling, everything was heightened. Plus, the struggle. God, he loved the struggle. And Ana was a good little actress when it came to playing fearful. She was a good little everything, honestly.

Tugging open the zipper on the backpack, he pulled out a couple of clothing items. He kept a variety of different types of outfits here, because it totally ruined scenes like this when he was forced to do them in his work clothes. It didn't play very believable as a burglar when he was still wearing a suit and tie. So he had other articles of clothing here for scenes, including the cargo pants and gray short sleeved t-shirt packed in this bag. Other than that, the bag contained some rope and tape and a few toys. Anything else he could need was stashed somewhere around Ana's room, always accessible.

Stripping himself of all of this clothing, Scott stood naked in Ana's living room, stretching his muscles, loosening up. He rolled his shoulders, even dropped down and did a few pushups, trying to expel some of this extra energy, thought all it served to do was get his heart pumping faster. He caught sight of himself in the mirror, seeing his muscles more clearly after the brief pumping he'd given them. He flexed the various muscle groups of his body, watching the way they all tightened and bulged at will. His body was lean, but strong, more cut than most men half his age. He stared into his eyes, seeing the feralness, the hunger. Tonight would satisfy his baser needs, slake a desire he'd held for a long, long time. Tonight would be animalistic, and he couldn't fucking wait.

Pulling his gaze away from the mirror, Scott pulled the cargo pants up his legs and over his hips. He followed it with the dark gray shirt, pulling it down over his abdomen. He retrieved the pair of heavy boots from Ana's coat closet, then moved to complete the ensemble with the ski mask he always kept shoved in the backpack. It was just a regular winter hat with holes at the eyes and mouth, but it completed the necessary look to truly make this whole act thrilling- the anonymity, the danger, the fear. It heightened everything for him, and it was why he loved the 'intruder' scene so much.

After he was dressed, he caught sight of himself one more time in the mirror. He felt the surge of pure exhilaration bolt through him. He'd done many adventurous things in his life- skydiving, bungee jumping, rock climbing, cliff diving, kayaking- but _nothing_ compared to the thrill he was feeling of being on the cusp of finally living out this fantasy with Ana. Feeling the sudden urge to commemorate the night with a photo, he sauntered up the the mirror, staring his reflection dead in the eye. Slowly he pulled the ski mask back off, lifting his phone to snap the picture. Abandoning his phone, he tugged the mask back in place.

Wasting no more time, Scott grabbed the backpack off the couch and slung it over his shoulders, then snuck down the hallway, gingerly pushing open the slightly ajar door leading into Ana's bedroom. The room was dark save the soft glow emitting from the bathroom light. He could hear Ana's light voice humming to herself, the clink of items of the sink as she did whatever. He quietly moved so she became visible to him, and he watched her as she did what appeared to be a bedtime routine in front of the bathroom mirror, dressed in the silky nightgown he'd told her to wear. Good girl. He picked his moment, waiting until she was looking down so she couldn't see him coming. Then he threw himself into the room with her, wrapping his arm around her arms and chest and yanking her back hard against his body.

She yelped, but it was barely anything, and he felt a fission of disappointment run through him. He wanted more. He wanted a terrified scream. And she wasn't even trying to push away. She was just still in his tight hold. It angered him.

"Kick," he growled into her ear. "Scream, Ana. **Fight me**."

He hauled her up with the arm wrapped around her, turning to pull her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. But he slammed to a halt when she kicked up her feet and leveraged them against the door frame to stop him from moving. Coupled with a slightly more satisfying scream from her lips, he felt the arousal begin to course through him again. Whipping them sideways, he maneuvered them through the doorway and out into the bedroom, tossing her onto her bed with ease.

He removed the backpack and tossed it onto the bed next to her, grabbing her ankle when he saw her shift, like she she was going to try and roll off the opposite side. She let out a little squeal as he yanked her back into place. With his free hand he pulled some rope out of the bag, easily, _too easily_ , overpowering her and binding her wrists together before securing her to the wrought iron headboard he'd purchased specifically because it lended itself so well to various forms of bondage.

Clenching his teeth, he climbed on top of her, straddling her hips. Slowly he pulled the ski mask from his face, riffling his fingers through his now messy hair. Again the disappointment washed over him and she waited expectantly under him. "Fight," he hissed, frustrated that he'd now had to tell her _twice_ during the scene.

After a momentary hesitation, he felt her legs move, her feet planting before she bowed her body up and off the bed, rocking her hips and throwing him off balance. _Yes._ He scooted back a little, straddling her thighs instead of her hips, pinning her so she could no longer use her legs as leverage. With deft fingers, he grabbed the edge of her nightie where it lay bunched up around her lower belly and tore it up the seam in one long, smooth rip. He snapped the thin straps as the front then yanked the material from underneath her body and tossed it aside.

She continued her light struggle against the ropes around her wrists, whimpering when his fingers trailed down her body and reached for her panties. She let out an unsolicited scream thing time, followed by a begging, "No, no, no, please don't." He eased up off her legs in order to move the material down to her feet. Bringing the lace to his nose, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, feeling the shudder of pleasure work it's way down his body. Her brief stint in begging was just that- brief, and he felt the anger well in him again. If she wasn't going to scream, he was going to make it so she couldn't. Balling up the scrap of material in frustration he, attempted to shove it between her lips, only for her to snap her mouth shut. "Open your mouth," he snapped at her, taking his index finger and trying to force it between her lips to pry them apart. When she shook her head in refusal, he raised a hand and slapped her hard on her thigh. "I said open your fucking mouth," he demanded. She screamed through her closed mouth as he continued to rain down slaps on her thighs and belly, watching the skin turn pink and angry. He knew he was hitting her hard, and fuck, it was turning him on. The resistance, the power. He was hard as a rock. Finally he brought a particularly hard slap down on her left breast, and her mouth popped up with a loud yell. Immediately he shoved the panties into her mouth, hearing the muffled whimpers escaping from her throat.

Sliding his hand up her silky thigh, he attempted to part it, but she clamped them together tightly, forbidding him entrance between her legs. He thrived on the mixed feelings of her denials, the power and control over being able to force her into cooperation was thrilling while it simultaneously had him fighting with his instinct to expect her submission and feel consuming frustration and anger when she didn't give it.

Tsk'ing at her refusal to allow him full access, he shook his head at her. Grabbing another length of rope, her looped it around her lower right thigh, yanking it to the side and attacking it under one of the multiple hooks he'd installed on the underside of her bedframe.

He looked at her, half spread open on the bed, feeling the displeasure creeping over him again. He shot her a look, and immediately she took her free leg and swung it over, clamping her legs closed again. He was getting really fucking sick of having to keep coaching her. She was always good about fighting him, and it was really fucking irritating that tonight, of all nights, she was ruining this for him.

She yanked at the hand restraints, twisting her body awkwardly in order to keep her legs together. Growling, he rounded the bed, taking ahold of her other leg and yanking it back into place. Again, his expertly crafted rope skills had her secured quickly, and she was now flat on her back, arms pulled tight above her head, legs bent and secured wide open. He stood back and admired his work, loving the sight of her bound and open, her skin splotchy where he'd hit her, the rope digging into her tight, delicate flesh.

"You are beautiful," he whispered, but the tone of it was sneering, authoritative, and he watched it send a shiver down her spine.

He could feel his green eyes blazing, trailing hotly over her naked body. His fingers grasped the back of his t-shirt just behind his neck, tugging the fabric off and leaving him naked from the waist up. He stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at her for an indeterminant amount of time. Taking a moment to read her body, really realizing that she seemed tense and unsure. It dawned on him that maybe she was just nervous about what was to come and needed something to take the the edge off. Instantly, he knew that had to be it. As her Dom he needed to tend to her emotional state here, and this was something he could easily take care of in order to loosen her up. He needed her to enjoy this so they could do it again and again. So, without preamble, he reached a hand forward and forcefully thrust a finger deep inside of her. She closed her eyes and let out a cry that was drowned out by the fabric in her mouth. He leaned over her, twisting his hand and digging his finger in deeper.

"Do you like that?" he growled.

She shook her head back and forth, knowing he wanted her to tell him no.

"Funny, you're wet," he said, pulling his finger from her and dragging her moisture up and around her labia before tapping her clit once, twice. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

Again she simply shook her head, and immediately his palm slapped down on her left inner thigh, then the right, then right between her legs. She let out a strangled cry, so he completed the circuit again, then again. He could feel the stinging heat between her legs, and watched as a tear rolled out past her left eyelid and descend down toward her temple.

"There we go," he whispered to her. "That's more like it."

Two long, thick fingers speared her again, this time relentless as they forcibly fucked her. Every ten seconds or so his free hand would reign down another harsh slap to her thighs or stomach or breasts as his hand sunk hard and deep and harsh inside of her. Her hips rocked,thighs fought the ropes, back arched as much as it could as her body sought an outlet for the onslaught of pleasure and pain he was simultaneously forcing on her. Fuck, yes. Finally she seemed to be enjoying this without overthinking.

"I know you want this. Come for me. I own you now, baby," he growled as he pumped his fingers mercilessly into her G-spot. He watched the sweat beading on her brow, the constant line of tears leaking from her eyes as he pummeled his fingers against her in a way that only someone so seasoned with her body would know how.

"Hold it Ana. Fight against it," he urged her quietly in a voice that warned her he was treading a razor thin line of his two roles. An intruder wouldn't warn her to hold it, that was the Dom in him talking. He wanted her to fight it, but the fact that he could see she was increasingly falling more and more apart wasn't slowing him down. He did wanted her to hold it,so when she did come, it would be hard and blissful and put her mind and body in a state of euphoria rather than tension.

And when he laid down another harsh smack to her already raw inner thigh, she finally tipped over the edge. He growled as her body seized around his fingers, pushing her through the intense orgasm he had practically forced upon her, drawing it out to the point where it was likely to spawn a second orgasm for her. But he cut short of letting her have that, wanting to keep her wet and needy for him. He watched her body keening for more, waiting for him, her thighs spread and her core so invitingly wet. Fuck, he wanted to be inside of her...

Sneering down at her in approval, he ran the tip of his tongue over the bottom of his top teeth. Popping the button on his pants, he lowered the zipper, tugging the waistband just enough to expose himself. He was painfully hard, his fist gripping his length tightly, his thick forearm muscles flexing as he gave it a couple of quick, dry strokes. He halted his movement abruptly, then a slow smile spread on his face. He kneeled on the bed, half over her and tugged her panties from her mouth, tossing them aside. Giving her no time to accumulate moisture to her mouth, he pressed the offending fingers against her tongue, sinking them back until they hit her throat and making her gag. He pulled back a little, then inserted again, over and over until her mouth was flooding with spit he wasn't allowing her to swallow.

When his fingers were saturated, he pulled them slowing from her mouth, the strings of spit stretching until they broke and lashed her lips and cheeks. Then he used his newly lubricated hand as he once again began to stroke himself.

"Since I removed the panties, I guess I'll have to think of something else to fill that mouth, hm sweetheart?" he grinned, inching his way toward her. She snapped her jaw shut and his eyes darkened, pleased at her instant cooperation this time, proving he'd done the right thing in getting her off to loosen her up. "Ah, ah, ah," he admonished, his hand unexpectedly coming down to grip her tightly around her throat. Her mouth popped back open and immediately he slid his cock between her lips, straight back to her throat. He felt her whole body tighten at the unexpected intrusion, her eyes widening as her throat hardened under his hand, letting him know she was about to start gagging or choking.

"Breathe through your nose." It was a warning, his teeth gritted as he felt her jaw react and begin to close on him. It took a moment, but she heeded his advice, relaxing immediately, allowing him to relax too. He actively pressed on the outer edge of his palm against the sensitive spot on the front her throat, his thumb and middle finger strategically placed as the angles of her jaw, keeping it pulled down and open. He began to move, slowly, sliding himself further, back to her throat, out, in, out, in. His thrusts turned progressively from lazy to urgent as he became increasingly sure she wasn't going to tense up on him again. His grip slid with his force until his hand was no longer around her jaw and now, finally, around her actual neck.

His made sure his grip was not too tight, easing her into this before he went full blown with it, keeping most of the pressure of his hand on the sides of her neck with his fingers, not on her throat with his palm. The urge to be inside her became overwhelming, and in a flash decision he withdrew from her mouth completely, climbing on the bed between her spread thighs and slamming full force into her.

She cried out loudly, her hips lifting to his as he fucked into her with deep, rough strokes. And finally he was able to fully feel comfortable taking her the way he'd been planning. It was hard holding back, but he knew he had to until she was open enough to handle thing. And now she was vocal and receptive, not quiet and withdrawn, and so he threw caution to the wind and splayed his palm flush against her throat, tightening his grip. Finally, oh God. This was what he'd been waiting for. The build up was nothing, just a tease for this moment, and it was everything. Fucking her ruthlessly, Ana finally started fight back, confirming that he'd made the right decision, taking care of her first, tending to her needs, and now she was returning the favor. Committing to her role, he watched her fight against her restraints, tugging her limbs in a haphazard struggle with no relent.

Her abdomen undulated, her hips jerking with what little leeway her torso had to move. "Fuck, yes," he groaned, basking in the glory of the way she squirmed below him. He couldn't fight the grin that spread across his face as he continued to pummel into her at a punishing rhythm.

Her lips parted, whimpering high pitched gasps escaping from the top of her throat, each one cut off by a jolt of her body as he rammed into her enough to jar her vocal cords.

Every dozen seconds or so, he would ease his grip on her throat, alleviating the pressure enough to allow full volume grunts to escape her lips. Her breathing picked up, harsher and faster, her whole body tightening as she climbed higher and higher. Her head started to drop, but he didn't want anything to hinder the sight of his hand wrapped around her neck- he was too transfixed by it. So he used his free hand to grab a fistful of her hair and yank it back, opening her up to him again. It cost him the leverage of his arm, but he had enough in his knees to keep fucking her furiously. He even managed to find a way to secure his arms around her head and neck and use her own body against her, pushing down on her every time he thrusted inside of her.

Her mouth was wide open so he took advantage shoving her tongue inside, feeling the possession of her completely. But he didn't want to occupy her mouth for long, because the noises coming from her were so primal, so unlike anything he'd ever heard from her, or _anyone_ for that matter, before. It was beyond anything he could have dreamed and he didn't want to drown them out. So instead he moved his mouth to her shoulder, working the skin roughly with his tongue and teeth.

"That's it. Just like that," he moaned, feeling the waves of pleasure coming at an exponentially fast rate. "You fucking slut. You like this don't you?" Her whole body tensed underneath him, her back arching trying to absorb and dispel the intense pleasure. "You're getting so tight. Are you going to come for me you little whore?"

God, he was so close. So, so close. His grip tightened, knowing she was right there. This was what it was all about… working her airway just right, all leading up to this moment, where he was in total control of keeping her hanging precariously on this side of consciousness. He gripped tighter, and just as she seized up in orgasm, he released, allowing all of that blood to rush to her brain and the oxygen to light her system on fire.

Her body went slack, and he swelled with pride at accomplishing his goal. It was enough to push him over the edge too, his body finally giving in to the overwhelming pleasure as he rocked his hips tightly against hers, a long string of moans escaping him as he slowed to a deep grind before finally stilling. He panted against her neck, brushing his lips against collarbone before sinking his teeth into the round of her shoulder, kissing, sucking, biting, kissing, sucking, biting.

Drained. He was completely drained, his legs like jello. He pulled in deep, full breaths as he tried to regulate his breathing and heart rate. Slowly he felt it all coming down, the strength returning enough to move. He lifted his head, looking down into her beautiful blue eyes before slowly uncurling his fingers which had tightened again around her neck while he'd been lost in bliss. He watched her eyes flit closed, stretching out her head and her limbs, to the extent that she was able.

"That was amazing, Ana," he whispered, placing a tender kiss to her throat. She flinched, her body still wound tightly from the intensity of her orgasm. "Relax baby," he whispered, sitting up, rubbing her shoulders, down to her arms in a calming manner, "That was a really intense orgasm. Just relax. Let your body come down."

Leaving Ana to shower and get some rest, he was overwhelmed by the success of the evening as he walked back into her living room to get dressed and leave. Ana removed a limit for him in order to prove her trust and devotion to him, and he'd delivered on providing her an experience that she'd never had before. It was everything he could ever want from his submissive as a Dominant. Keeping Ana in his life was one of the best decisions he'd ever made, keeping her after class that fall day at Montesano High being the best. He was more proud of that than he was of GHI, and he was damn proud of GHI.

Catching sight of his naked body in the same mirror from earlier, he took note of his own body. He was a very fit man, one who loved to kept himself in peak physical condition. He had a handsome face, he knew that, because women were not shy to tell him so. He knew he was well past the age of a young man, but that didn't mean he couldn't look just as impressive. He finally had everything he ever needed to back up what he always knew he was. When he was just a science teacher, he wasn't much of anything. Always smart, but not always utilizing it. Always attractive, but not taking care of himself like he did now. He spent years being overlooked, until one year he changed.

He'd been exceptionally low on himself, and was looking for something to make him feel powerful. He had these ideas, these passions for helping the world with environmentally friendly technologies, but he was just a science teacher who has missed his window to do anything important. He dated, but wasn't ever interested in love, or kids. But he knew he wanted more out of life. Enter BDSM. It gave him something he'd been missing, immediately filling the void he'd never known how to fill. He did everything he could, picking up extra hours coaching, joining committees, chaperoning events, just to be able to afford the club fees. He found true joy and almost total fulfillment within those walls.

He'd wished he could find a submissive to have outside of the club, but that was a luxury he couldn't afford. And then one night, after an especially intense scene where he was feeling particularly powerful, it hit him. Why was he wasting his time as a science teacher when he knew he wanted to be, and had the potential to be, more? No one said you needed a degree to start a company. He was smart, and knew that he was smart enough to do this. And if he was successful, he would be financially secure enough where he could afford to have a submissive however he wanted. Hell, maybe he could afford someone who would agree to TPE. He'd have to give it all up while he worked to afford starting up a new company, but it'd be worth it if he became a success in the end, wouldn't it? Then he'd finally have the career _and_ the lifestyle he wanted so badly. He didn't want to just settle for power during sex anymore. He wanted it all the time, in every facet of his life.

So he quit going to the clubs and focused on saving all of that money for a business. He spent most of his time planning out everything he needed in order to start up, and utilized working out in order to refocus his energy. The change in him was palpable. He was stronger in all facets of his life- mentally,physically, emotionally. He had a newfound confidence, a stronger, leaner physique, and he found pride in himself, which he thought he had long since lost. Everything was going smoothly. And then...

Anastasia Steele.

She was beautiful, and he was enchanted by her the moment he looked up from his list of students to call her name for attendance. She looked up at him with those big blue eyes, all shy and awkward and he was a goner. He had to have her. The problem with submissives at the club was that it cost so much damn money. He'd been forced to quit so he could save for what would become GHI. Sure, you could look for submissives outside of the club, but most expected to be taken care of in some way. They didn't want to just submit to a broke science teacher, and right now he couldn't afford to offer them anything other than his Domination in a scene. But the moment he saw Ana, the wheels started turning. He was stressed out and hadn't fucked anyone in months, and was desperate to exert his control over someone. He wanted her, and if he could convince her that she needed help and that he could provide her that help, he could train her to submit to him and have a fully accessible submissive without the pricetag. He missed BDSM and as much as working out had helped him, it was a poor substitute for the control dominating someone provided. If he could pull this off, he could get that taste of what it was like to Dominate someone, enough to sate him until he could get fully back into the swing of things once GHI eventually took off. He needed to do a lot of planning, but he'd mapped out to save some money and present his business plan to the bank for a loan for the rest, as as long as they accepted, he was sure he'd be ready to start GHI some time around her graduation, so it was perfect. He'd use her for the duration, and then cut her loose when she went off to college and he quit MHS to start GHI.

But things with Ana had turned out more successful than he'd ever imagine possible. He'd lured her in with a lie about rough teenage years, so she felt a sense of understanding and compatibility between them. He couldn't tell her that he'd come into BDSM in his forties. If he thought he'd been exposed to in his teens, it would help her feel okay about it. He'd just planned on using her as a way to exert control and slake that desire for a little kink. It was taboo, to have a sexual relationship with a student, and he could get off on maybe tying her up a little bit, spanking her. Degrade her gently, in the name of helping her. It would satisfy that need in him. He could get away with doing less painful punishments because he could make up for it in playing the mental game of domination and control.

But she made it all so easy. _Too_ easy. She was so trusting and so willing to please… it was heaven. Ana was literally heaven. Everything about her, from her sweet as pie personality to her deliciously sinful body, which had really filled out by the time high school ended. She has no idea how knockout gorgeous she was. And she was all his- always had been. He'd never planned on really bringing her deep into the BDSM world; afterall, she was so young. But she was just so _willing_. And then he found himself becoming very possessive of her, something else he hadn't expected. He wasn't the kind of guy to become attached to someone, but he felt a very real sense of ownership over Ana, which translated to protectiveness and jealousy over her. When it was time to let her go, when she was getting ready to graduate, he couldn't. It forced him to make decisions that he sometimes did feel badly about, like convincing her not to go to college. But in the end, he knew he needed to know what she was doing and who she was doing it with, and that was not going to happen if she was out of his sights in classes all day. He needed her nearby, and he needed her available to him. And even though he knew he was being selfish by maneuvering and encouraging rifts in her friendships and family relationships, and denying her education and other life experiences, he had to keep her safe and he had to keep her _his_.

And eventually, he realized that keeping her with him instead of sending her out into the world didn't really matter, because Ana was happy. He worked hard to make sure of that. They had a great working relationship, and a phenomenal sex life. He provided her with all the material possessions she could ask for. It may not be the life she'd have had if he hadn't been involved, but he made sure she had a good life. She enjoyed this life as much as he did. He really didn't think she understood how sexual of a person she was. She exuded a body confidence most women didn't, all the while maintaining modesty outside of the bedroom. It was something he gave himself credit for, because he taught her to be unashamed of herself in scenes, but demanded she keep proper outside so as not to draw attention from other men. If he hadn't been around to teach her that, she likely would have went the way of most other girls, spreading their legs for the first drunken guy to throw them a compliment. Ana was better than that. He locked eyes with himself in the mirror again. Ana was better than everyone.

Shaking his head, he slipped back on his suit pants and slid his shirt over his arms, smoothing it down to do up the buttons. It was frustrating that everything was practically perfect for so long, and then out of the blue, things with her had recently become strained. But he knew he was partially to blame for that. She was questioning things, doing things for the first time and it had him acting out. Everything had been so smooth with them for so long, he guessed he should have expected a time when the waters might get a little choppy. And all of this Christian Grey shit was wearing very, very thin on him. So thin, he'd made the biggest mistake of his BDSM history and hurt her during a scene. He'd never really hurt anyone before, and Ana was the last person he ever wanted to hurt. This night, her showing him that she _was_ loyal, that she _did_ want to be with him, it meant everything to him. He was a lucky man to have her.

Grabbing his tie and shoving it in his pocket, Scott draped his suit jacket over his forearm before leaving her apartment. Things would finally be back to normal with them now. She had given him a very special gift in trust him tonight, and he was earned it by giving her a couple fantastic orgasms while choking her, and she hadn't even needed to call out 'yellow', let alone 'red'. He felt a renewed confidence as he walked out of the back door of her building to his car. He felt a renewed claim of her, a renewed sense of total possession. He smirked to himself, then started whistling lightly, swinging his key ring around on his finger absentmindedly. Christian Grey _who_?

He was almost to his car when he felt someone tap his shoulder. He turned, and before he even could register what was happening, everything went black.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: This is not a pre-explanatory a/n like last time. This is a thanks-from-the-bottom-of-my-heart a/n. You guys are awesome, and I haven't said it enough. The support you give is amazing, and it never ceases to surprise me, honestly. I had so much anxiety over that last chapter. I was a mess. But it seems I always underestimate you guys. You've been nothing but supportive from day one, and the responses from the last chapter show that you get it. You get what I'm doing here, and I love it. So thank you.**

 **Side note: Part of what bothered me with the last couple of chapters was the layout of the timing of everything. So I will coming back soon to edit everything, to rearrange POV's so Taylor's POV comes after everything in Chapter 14. So if you come back and that's different, it is because it's really bothering me. I want it in order, so I'll likely be switching it all around soon. Nothing of the content will change, just the layout of Chapters 13 and 14.**

 _ **CHRISTIAN**_

He was loathing the idea of having this meeting. Of having to sit across from Scott Kennedy and look him in the eye and talk business. He was excellent at covering his emotions, he had to be to be as successful a businessman as he'd become. But this wasn't simply putting on an impassive face for a jackass CEO or a egotistical lawyer. This was remaining professional in front of a child molester. In front of someone who had taken advantage of a teenager. And was still taking advantage of her. And he shouldn't truthfully be settling for impassive. Scott was his employee, and an important one. This meeting wasn't one where he was trying to overthrow him from his company, or yell at him for incompetence. It was just a quarterly review, and since GHI had been flourishing since falling under the GEH umbrella, it was going to be a very positive review. Christian, under any other circumstances, would be welcoming this man into his office, offering him a celebratory drink, and offering him congratulations on a job well done.

He didn't anticipate Ana being there. For all his apparently punishment-inducing moves to get her attention, he had inadvertently constructed a wall between himself and Ana in Scott's mind. He didn't want Ana around Christian, and so he aimed to succeed in keeping that the reality. Even if that meant keeping his own notes while his PA sat at her desk while the two men met. He hadn't brought Ana for a meeting, or sent Ana up to the top floor for anything in awhile, and Christian didn't expect that to change any time soon.

"Mr. Grey, Mr. Kennedy," Taylor announced, popping his head into the office. It took Christian a second to respond, wondering why Taylor was announcing Kennedy and not Andrea. But the thought quickly left his head when he saw Scott's face.

"What the fuck happened to you?" he couldn't stop himself from asking, the higher tilt to his tone due to the fact that he wanted to laugh, but easily disguised as simple surprise. Scott's face was decorated with a prominent bruise spanning the angle of his jaw up to his cheekbone. The skin puffed up around his left eye a little, likely hindering his vision. He looked like shit. There was nothing to be done to cover that mark until it went away on its own. Christian cut his eyes to Taylor for the briefest moment when he saw a small smirk adorning his lips.

Scott paused in the doorway and scowled at the question, probably having been asked it a million times. "I was mugged last night," he responded quickly.

Last night? His eyes shot to Taylor again, only this time they quickly diverted to his banged up hand, which was placed discretely behind his back. He met his CPO's eyes again, and it was clear as day. He wasn't even trying to cover it. He did this. Why, specifically, Christian wasn't sure, though he would venture to guess it was for many the same reason's Christian wanted to be the one to slam a first into Kennedy's face.

He caught the grin that was tugging at his cheeks and stopped it before it became full-fledged. Luckily Scott wasn't paying any attention anyway. Instead he vacated his spot at the doorway and ushered Anastasia through. The grin was wiped immediately off Christian's face. As truly happy as he was to see her, which was physically evidenced by the swell in his chest, he was also apprehensive about it. He really didn't like the idea of their first interaction since the kiss to be with Scott in the room. It made it much more awkward, and it would have been awkward no matter what.

She was well dressed as usual, if not a little casual in her plum colored pants, top, blazer, scarf and flats. It took everything in him, but he kept his eyes focused on Scott after the momentary flit to Ana when she'd walked in the door. His jaw ticked as he forced himself to keep his eyes from burning a hole in her head. Not that she would have noticed because she wasn't looking anywhere near him.

"Anastasia is here to expedite the meeting, Mr. Grey. My vision is a little blurry, so she'll be assisting me during the presentation of the happenings of last quarter, as well as taking notes."

"You don't need to explain to me why you are using your assistant to assist," Christian said dismissively, not looking at the two as he once again took a seat at his desk.

This was a tricky situation. He could not, under any circumstances, give Scott futher reason to suspect anything existed between he and Ana. Actually, this whole thing, as uncomfortable as he was with it, could prove quite useful. If he could prove his aloofness enough in regards to Ana's presence, maybe he could take some of the heat off of them, and Scott would, in turn, loosen the reins on her again. Christian grimaced at the mental image the term 'loosen the reins' brought out. All of this BDSM research was really getting to him…

He cleared his throat, effectively dismissing his own thoughts. "Please take a seat."

Scott strode across the room with his usual confidence, taking a seat directly in front of the center of Christian's desk. Despite his banged up face, he still exuded a strong, determined air. When they'd first started to do business, Christian has appreciated that Scott didn't cower or pander to him like everyone else in the world. Now, though, he wished he could say he saw even an ounce of fear instilled in the man sitting across from him. But he'd be lying if he did.

"Anastasia," Scott said firmly, causing her to finally move from the spot just inside the doorway. She took seemingly hesitant steps, coming to stand at Scott's side. He held out his hand, not uttering even a syllable. She was quick to respond, pulling out a packet of papers and setting them in his hand, then turning to Christian.

"Mr. Grey," she said, her voice soft, oddly soft, and void of emotion. Her eyes didn't meet his, instead staying on the papers in her own hands. "I've prepared a summary of the pertinent information regarding GHI from the last 3 months." She stopped to clear her throat gently, then continued. "I included a break between numbers prior to the merger, so you can see the growth we've undergone since becoming a part of Grey Enterprise Holdings, Inc. And in the end I have all the information combined, for a total overview."

Christian just nodded, taking the papers from her. He contemplated the odd tenor of her voice for another moment before forcing himself to refocus and dig into the numbers rather than truly acknowledge her behavior. It wasn't what he wanted, but any means, but he needed to build some imaginary walls to keep Scott off his trail.

They all sat in silence for a few long minutes while Christian perused the report, comparing numbers, assessing projections. He was going over the downshift in materials costs as a result of the merger and how it translated to profits for GEH, GHI, and the various materials companies, when a thrill sounded through the office.

He shot an irritated glance up at Ana, who was pulling a phone from her pocket.

"I told you to put my phone on silent, Anastasia," Scott said through gritted teeth.

"I did, Sir," she said, making Christian wince. "This is my phone. And I told Stacy to only call me if Mr. Camden called." She quickly answered the call. "Anastasia Steele." Her voice cracked slightly and she paused for a moment while listening to the other person, presumably Stacy, speak. "Yes, please put him through," she said, eyeing Kennedy briefly.

He was quick to stand up from his chair, shooting a glance at Christian. "I'm sorry, Mr. Grey. But this is the call I've been waiting for from Ron Camden. About the solar chips."

Christian nodded acceptingly. He knew the Camden deal was huge, and therefore it was important that Kennedy be available for this call. A simple quarterly review wasn't reason enough to keep him from answering the call.

He heard Ana greeting Camden politely and professionally before handing the phone over to Scott. He also watched Scott take the phone eagerly, answering with confidence. "Good morning, Mr. Camden. … Yes, sir. …Yes, we have all the numbers crunched. Whenever you're available to discuss specifics… Now, yes of course. I just need to access the files." Christian eyed Kennedy as he shot a look to Ana, wiggling his fingers like he was typing on a keyboard. Christian understood immediately. He needed into their computer system to access the information.

Pressing the intercom button, Christian summoned Andrea. "Andrea, I need you to show Mr. Kennedy to Conference Room B. Set him up on the computer in there."

"Yes, sir," the disembodied voice said.

"Thank you, Mr. Grey," Kennedy said. "I'll just be a moment, Mr. Camden. I'm getting access to everything right now." He stood gracefully from his seat. "Come, Ana," he said, motioning her toward him, and she followed obidently.

Christian's office door opened and Andrea entered. "Pencil Kennedy in again later, Andrea. I need this review by the time I meet with Simmon's this afternoon."

"Sir, your schedule is full," Andrea informed him. "You don't even have a lunch availability today."

"Fuck," Christian muttered to himself. He glanced at the sheets in front of him. Then like a thrown light switch, it came to him. "Miss Steele, you prepared this report, correct?"

"Yes, Sir,"

"Then you can give me the rundown."

Scott was quick to jump in. "Ana just compiled the report, Mr. Grey. She didn't prepare any of the data, didn't have a hand in preparing the actual numbers. She just organized it."

"I don't need her to defend the numbers, Mr. Kennedy. The numbers speak for themselves. I need someone to walk me through the rest. And that's something she would be able to do, correct?"

Reluctantly, Scott nodded.

"I don't need anything too in depth, Miss Steele. Just what you know about what you prepared here, so I can get enough of a picture for when I see Simmons. Kennedy, you and I can meet tomorrow to discuss clarifications if need be."

He watched Ana looked her lap as Christian watched Scott's features darkened in response to Christian's proposal.

Ana didn't answer him, and Scott didn't say a word, so Christian decided to snap at them, leaving little room for argument. "Well? Can you or can you not, Miss Steele? It's a very straightforward question."

He watched Kennedy's jaw clench as he almost imperceptibly nodded.

"Of course, Mr. Grey," Ana agreed as she doubled back toward his desk.

"Right this way, Mr. Kennedy," Andrea urged, as Scott just watched Ana like a hawk. Reluctantly, he moved his gaze from her to Andrea, nodding, and turned on heel and followed her out, the door clicking closed behind them.

"Please have a seat, Miss Steele," Christian said, waving his hand to the chair vacated by Kennedy. She wordlessly complied, her rear end hitting the seat no further than halfway back, her knees tightly pressed together, her back stock straight, her hands folded in her lap on top of her paperwork.

He eyed her for a long moment, but she didn't turn her gaze to his face. She remained motionless, eyes fixed on her lap as he watched her. Slowly, his fingers traced the edge of the first page of the information she'd prepared for him, deftly flipping it. His eyes didn't leave her as his voice came low and deep. "Can you explain Section 3 on page two for me, Miss Steele?"

Immediately she swiped a finger to catch page one and flip it back behind the rest. Her eyes scanned the page, and she delved into the meaning of section three, which was a descriptor of all the changes implemented to their purchasing processes since becoming a part of GEH, and what said changes meant for purchasing costs in general.

Christian listened, giving the report his undivided attention. After finishing her explanation of section 3, she jumped right into the rest of the report. She had clearly spent a lot of time accumulating all of this information and compiling it in a no-nonsense way. He wanted, and needed, to know this information, and the way Ana was presenting it was so clear and concise that he was able to put their personal relationship on hold in order to give her the stage to present all of this to him. He was impressed. She had a high school education and wanted to go into publishing, but he couldn't help but imagine her as a formidable ally in the business world. Give her a collegiate background and he had a feeling she would fare well in upper management, if this was what she could produce as a PA.

After they plowed through the report, both of them simultaneously flipped back to the first pages of their packets. "Thank you, Miss Steele. I really appreciate you sticking around to go over this with me. You did an impressive job."

"Thank you, Mr. Grey," her rather monotonous voice replied, softly. "Will that be all?" Against her voice broke, and in turn, so did he.

"Are you sick, Ana? Do you have a cold? Your voice sounds…"

He let the words hang in the air, and, surprisingly, her eyes finally left the paper in front of her. "No, I'm well," she said softly. He felt the thrill of excitement as her gaze met his for the first time since stepping foot in his office, but it was short lived, because even now that she was, she was giving nothing away. Actually, it was what _wasn't_ there in her eyes that had him confused. They weren't simply impassive, they were lifeless. She looked completely hollow. The emptiness in her eyes was heart wrenching for him. Something was wrong. It wasn't illness. And it was something more than just the awkwardness between them, more than her usual hesitance and apprehension. If he could venture a guess, he'd say the emptiness in her wasn't even about him, but about her. And that upset him on a visceral level.

He fought the urge to glance at the clock, knowing they'd been in here a while. He didn't know how long Kennedy would be, but enough time had passed that it would be reasonable for him to come walking back in that door at any moment. He could have very little time left, and he didn't want to miss the opportunity to speak to her, but he also didn't want to do anything to put her in further jeopardy. He would have been willing to let her walk out without acknowledging the elephant in the room, had it not been the the look in her eyes. He'd probably seen every emotion under the sun in those eyes, but this lack of anything, this shallowness to her was easily the most upsetting. And he couldn't let her walk away from him without trying to figure out what was wrong with her, to see if there was something he could do to fix it. But what could he say?

"I think Taylor is the one who punched Kennedy."

Both of their eyes went wide simultaneously. Holy shit. Of all the things... Why the fuck had he said _that_?

" _Taylor_ mugged Scott?" she asked, her voice the loudest he'd heard it, cracking at the high pitch.

"No,no no. I don't think so, anyway. I highly doubt… He wouldn't have _mugged_ him. He just… punched him," Christian said with a wince like it was okay as long as he didn't actually mug him.

" _Why_?" Ana asked, thoroughly confused. "Why would he _punch_ him?"

Oh shit.

Christian's lips tightened in a line. Fuck. He looked up at her, and he was sure the guilt might as well have been written in bright red marker across his face.

Ana let out a sound like she'd just been punched in the gut. "You _told_ him." It wasn't a question. He knew. She knew. They both knew the answer.

"I'm sorry," Christian said, shaking his head.

"You're _**sorry**_?" she shrieked, her hand immediately grabbing at her throat as she shot up from her chair. She was radiating fury. Was this better than the emptiness from before? He thought he wasn't sure, for a moment, but then he knew that yes, even this was better than seeing her… _dead_ inside.

"He won't tell anyone," Christian tried to placate, standing up himself and moving around the side of his desk. "He… I was at a loss, and I needed someone trustworthy to confide in. Someone who could help me figure out what I needed to do to help you. Scott is dangerous, Ana. He's got a hold on you that you can't see, and I'm afraid for you. I only want to help you," he rambled off quickly, eager to explain away the fact that he'd broken her trust but meant no harm by it. She was standing about ten feet away, her arms wrapped tightly around her torso, her head so far down her chin was practically on her chest.

He watched her, waiting for her to continue to explode on him, but when it didn't immediately come, he stepped closer. "Ana…"

He watched her body start to shake, tremor, and he closed the gap further. Her breathing increased, her chest expanding and deflating at a progressively faster pace. Quick, shallow drags of air that became louder and harsher. Holy shit, she was starting to hyperventilate. He'd sent her into a panic.

"Ana! Ana, Ana, Ana," he muttered, stepping closer to her, putting his hands on her elbows. She didn't even flinch, and he was becoming more and more concerned as the moments ticked by. "Calm down, Ana. Please," he said, his grip tightening. Before he realized what he was doing, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her tightly to him in some subconscious plan to be the strength and calm she needed in this moment. He pressed her to his chest and she didn't fight him, so he wrapped one arm around her back, holding her securely, and used the other to tightening in her hair. When her breathing slowed a little, he tugged, pulling her head back so her face was pointed at him. Tears leaked passed her closed eyelids and cascaded down her cheeks, dripping down to her jaw before gathering enough weight to drip down off and onto his white dress shirt.

"Look at me," he urged. Her eyes blinked open, her long, dark eyelashes stuck together in places where they'd been wetted by her tears. Her blue eyes were cloudy with anguish.

"I don't know who I am anymore," she whispered. His heart seized in a painful stranglehold.

"Oh Ana," he sighed out, pained. He pressed his forehead to hers, and they stayed like that, him holding onto her as if their lives depended on it. Slowly he felt her rigid body relax into his, and when it caused his grip to loosen, he only held on tighter.

 _ **ANA**_

"Look at me," he urged. Her eyes blinked open, her long, dark eyelashes stuck together in places where they'd been wetted by her tears. Her blue eyes were cloudy with anguish.

"I don't know who I am anymore," she whispered. She was so lost.

"Oh Ana," he sighed. He pressed his forehead to hers, and as much as she knew she shouldn't, she let him. It was too hard to fight the instant spread of comfort he provided when she was wrapped in his arms. She couldn't explain what it was about him, but whatever it was, she was too weak to resist it when she was at the lowest point she in her life since she was fifteen. So instead of pushing away from him like she knew in her brains he should, she relaxed into him.

She desperately needed just a few moments to shut off her mind. And when Christian wrapped her up more tightly in his embrace, she was finally able to find those moments of peace for herself. For just a minute, she needed to release this mental anguish, this inner turmoil she'd been living in since last night.

"Talk to me, Ana," he urged, pulling his head back enough to look her in the eyes. "Let me help you."

He was so genuine, so completely and totally sincere that it made her ache inside. He was a good man who truly did seem to care about her and her wellbeing. Why, she had no idea. What had him so invested in her, a nobody with a confusing and unappealing past? Was it just sympathy? Did he just feel sorry for her? Was she garnering his attention due to some white knight complex? Before he came around, she didn't even think she needed to be saved. Even now, as confused as she was, she was sure that whatever Christian saw in her, whatever it was that had him so focused on her, she wasn't what he thought she was. He could never find something redeeming about continuing any time of relationship with her, romantic, friendly or otherwise. She brought nothing to the table for someone who was… _everything_ , like he was.

Shaking her head at herself and her ability to appear so weak, she lifted her head from Christian's chest and attempted to put a few inches between them. His grip didn't really loosen, however, so it wasn't very much space.

He was standing directly in front of her, looking down at her, his eyes boring into hers, searching, begging. He watched a tear cascade down her cheek, down the path she felt it make until it reached her lips. His thumb moved up, tracing her lip gently on the bottom edge, then tenderly held her chin. His eyes hit hers again, then back to her mouth, and slowly he began the descent of his lips to hers. But before he could get there, she yanked her head sharply back and to the side, denying him, closing her eyes as she felt his breath on her skin.

She felt his hand move from her face, and she couldn't face looking him in the eye again, not wanting to see him disappointed or sad or embarrassed, or any of emotions he might be displaying right now.

"Ana," his voice came out thick and painful. No. She refused to look at him. "Ana…" he said more urgently, and more desperately.

That was when she felt his fingers on her scarf, pulling it down to further expose what she'd inadvertently partially exposed of her neck while turning her head away. She tried to pull back from his searching fingers, but it was too late. She felt his thumb tracing her neck, where the bruises were. She shook her head rapidly back and forth. Stupid, stupid stupid. She grabbed the scarf, fluffing it back up to hide her marks from him eyes once more.

"What did he do to you?" he asked, so utterly _sad_.

What did he do? Scott had taken full advantage of his chance to explore her previously hard limit. And she'd been living in a perpetual state of emptiness ever since. It hadn't quite terrified her the way she expected. Well, it had, but it also terrified her in a whole new way. Not just the physical act, but the psychological implication of it.

The choking itself had been as she had always suspected it would be- terrifying. She'd thought she could handle it, she'd thought that for him, she could handle anything. She was so stupid. There was a reason it had always been a hard limit. It was something she couldn't handle. And last night had just confirmed that to her. She'd made this decision on a whim while she was mentally overwrought and she was paying the price for making such a big decision on an impulse.

She'd been nervous when it had started. Not necessarily scared, but very nervous. Scott had told her to fight him, but she'd had a hard time relaxing enough to really do that. She'd done it before, but never with the idea of breath play looming. As a submissive she'd learned how to shut out everything else and focus on the now. So though she did try to utilize those skills and remove herself from everything else and just be in the moment, it had proven more difficult than she'd anticipated.

 _Scott was extra aggressive. He made a show out of attacking her from behind, dragging her to the bed._ Kick. Scream, Ana. **Fight me**. _He demanded her to do more, and she knew she wasn't giving him what he wanted out of this, but she just couldn't help it. She tried, though, to do better, kept trying to reestablish that genuine feeling of roleplay._

 _Once he succeeded in securing her arms and legs to the bed, he'd forced an orgasm upon her, her body responding to him the way it had been taught, through her mind was far from the place it usually was during sex. Every moment seemed to drag out in torturous anticipation of the moment. Normally forced orgasm didn't feel like punishments until she'd already come multiple times. But she was sure this orgasm was a punishment due to the fact that he was angry at her for her lack of performance, blaming her that he needed to stop and instruct her how to act while they were in a scene like this, since he'd already broken character multiple times to correct her. It came with very harsh hits to her bare skin and though he said she was, she knew she wasn't wet at all. There was no way this orgasm was for pleasure._

 _Then he immediately proceeded to choke her with his fingers, then with his cock. Everything was rough, and it only heightened her fear for what what to come. His hand on her throat while he was fucking her mouth had her so preoccupied. It was not that tight, and most of the pressure he was putting on her was on the sides of her neck, with his fingers, not on her throat. She was dangling on just this side of okay, when suddenly he withdrew from her mouth completely. She'd had no time to think, no time to prepare before he was on the bed, between her spread thighs and slamming full force into her._

 _And it was then that she felt his palm splay flush against her throat and his grip tighten. She hadn't expected it- the impalement of his body into her, or the escalation of the choking, let alone for them to occur in one quick onslaught. She instinctively yanked her hands, trying to bring them to her throat to pry off his hands, but was met with the harsh bite of the rope around her wrists._

 _She felt her eyes well up with tears as she attempted to jerk her head back and away from his hand, but she didn't succeed in putting any space between them. Her body came alive with what she could only describe as her fight or flight reflexes, and she thrashed underneath him, twisting and turning what little her restraints allowed, but it was all to no avail. She could see his eyes light up as he watched her squirm underneath him, his mouth spreading into a widening grin as her continued to pummel into her at a punishing rhythm._

 _Her lips were parted, disjointed gasps escaping them as she whimpered like a frightened animal. Every dozen seconds or so, there would be a slight recoil of his palm from her throat, alleviating the pressure and allowing her to grunt in higher amounts of air to her lungs. Her breathing increased harsher and faster, and she started to feel the effects of her diminished oxygen levels and hindered blood flow. Her head battled between being slightly swimmy followed by short bursts of clarity._

 _Her body continued to strain against her bonds. She was wet for her first orgasm, coupled with her own saliva, but she was not turned on. She was as far away from an orgasm as she'd ever been, her focus so completely set on Scott's hand that she barely felt how roughly he was taking her._

 _Her chin moved down trying involuntarily to protect her open neck, but Scott just reached up with his free hand, took a fist full of her hair and yanked her head back to keep her open. His body, no longer supported on his arm, rested on top of her, compressing her chest and making her feel further trapped. He seemed to make up for the lack of leverage by simply tightening his the grips of his hands, and she found herself completely consumed by him. He was everywhere, all over her, all of his weight on her, every inch of his length deeply fucking her, his hands controlling her head and neck in an extremely domineering way._

 _Her mouth was slack, desperately pulling in air every backthrust that jarred his hand away and allowed her small intakes of hair. She could hear the noises she was emitting but they didn't even sound like her, she felt so disconnected from herself._

 _She fluctuated between eyes open and eyes closed, not knowing which was worse. Her body was in full blown panic and she didn't know how much longer she could take it. This was the worst thing she'd ever experienced. His mouth was pressed against her, working the skin of her shoulder between her arm and her neck. Again, she pulled at her restraints, arm and legs, tugging but not gaining any breadth. That's it. Just like that. Her whole body braced itself, her muscles seizing tightly._ You fucking slut. You like this don't you? _Her back arched, her whole body desperate for an escape from this, but not as desperate as her mind._ You're getting so tight. Are you going to come for me you little whore? _His hand tightened impossibly further, cutting off that last remaining passageway for air, and she finally felt it all become too much._

 _Her body went slack, and everything went black._

 _But it must have only been seconds, because when she came back around, Scott was still on top of her, guttural moans escaping him, his previously relentless hips just grinding deeply inside of her until he finally stilled. His face was still buried against her shoulder as it had been, his teeth sinking into her flesh, alternating between sucking kisses and tender bites._

 _It felt like a tortuously long time until, while she listened to him take in deep, full breaths, before he finally loosened his grip around her throat. He lifted his head from it's spot on her shoulder, looking down into her eyes as he slowly uncurled his long fingers and she felt the full rush of oxygen and blood to her head. Her eyes flitted closed, her head stretching back as she tried not to take too deep of breaths, that only seemed to make her feel more disoriented. Her throat felt like it was on fire, her skull pounded the rhythm of her racing heart beat._

" _That was amazing, Ana," he whispered, placing a tender kiss to her throat, which made her flinch. "Relax baby," he whispered, rubbing her shoulders, down to her arms in a calming manner, "That was a really intense orgasm. Just relax. Let your body come down."_

She cringed internally. He'd thought her body's reaction to passing out, her body going from taught to relaxed, had been due to an orgasm release. She wasn't sure which was worse- him being so out of tune with her that he thought she was enjoying it enough to reach orgasm, or the thought that maybe he did realize how she was feeling and had kept going anyway. Both options seemed to gut her. Because one would have meant his total disregard for her, and the other told her that this man, who she'd dedicated her life to, really didn't know her at all. That thought gave her such a deeply hollow feeling that she wasn't sure she would ever be the same inside again. Last night had changed her. Everything that had happened over the last few months had propelled her toward this, but last night was more than everything else combined.

Not only had she allowed this to happen, allowed him to do something to her that scared her, but he'd done it, and he hadn't seen how it terrifying it was for her. That scared her. She spent years thinking that she knew Scott and he knew her, inside and out. She trusted him implicitly, and now that was all starting to crumble around her. What did that mean for them, if she could no longer trust him? She'd curled up on the couch last night, not wanting to be near her bed, and she'd asked herself over and over why she hadn't safeworded. But the best she could come up with was that she was so panicked, so completely consumed with her fear that she hadn't the presence of mind to even consider it. So what did _that_ say about her? She couldn't even trust _herself_ to save her. And if she couldn't trust Scott, and she couldn't trust herself, how could she continue on in this lifestyle? And if she didn't have this, what did she have?

And, to top it all off, what in the world was she doing with Christian? Here she was, standing in his office, having been wrapped in his arms and crying on his shoulder the day after she gave up a hard limit strictly to prove a point to herself about loyalty. It was ridiculous, and obviously all for nothing when hours later she was back to acting inappropriately with the man she was trying to make penance for.

She felt his fingers, which were on the rounds of her shoulders, tighten a little. "Ana, what did he do to you?" he asked, more forcefully this tone less sad and more angry.

"Nothing I didn't ask him to," she said, guiltily, rather than defensively. Because it was true, no matter how much she wished it wasn't.

"You asked him to- Ana, I can see the clear _handprint_."

"I know," she cried softly, hot tears falling all over again. She'd stared at that handprint in the mirror this morning for a solid twenty minutes as she wavered between a mind of blank thoughts and manic ones. Finally she'd pulled herself away, robotically going to her closet and picking out an outfit. She couldn't risk a skirt because of the rope marks on her thighs, so she had to wear pants. She needed long sleeves because of the marks on her wrists. And she needed a scarf to cover her neck.

"How did this happen? Why- how-" he let out a little sigh and she knew it was because he didn't even know what the right question was to ask. Because he knew she was into things he already didn't understand. Things she thought were completely normal were foreign to him. So he was trying to figure out where this fell in the spectrum of what she did. But she was sure her demeanor was what screamed to him that this wasn't some ordinary weird-kinky-sex thing that she regularly partook in. This was something else entirely.

"I sacrificed something I shouldn't have. I allowed for this to happen, but I did it for the wrong reasons. And now I- I don't-," she shook her head. And now, she didn't know who or what she was anymore. Now, she felt more lost than she'd ever been in her life.

"You need to get out," he whispered.

"I can't," she urged. "This is my whole life, Christian."

"It doesn't have to be. You're twenty-two. You can start over."

"You don't understand," she dismissed.

"Maybe not," he conceded, "But I can help you if you'll just let me. I promise, Ana. You just have to let me in."

Finally he released her from his arms, reach to his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. He opened it, and she felt the heat rise up her back and spread across her neck into her hairline. If he pulled out cash and handed it to her- But instead of money, he pulled out a card. He held it out and she took it, tracing the edges as she read the bold black text.

 **John Flynn, MD**

 **Board Certified Psychiatrist**

 **(206) 555-0402**

She felt her heart rate pick up. A psychiatrist?

"I'm not crazy," she whispered, her throat thick with emotion.

"Of course not, Ana," he said calmly. "He's just someone who can help. He helped me."

She looked up at him curiously, and he gave her a little half shrug and a smile. "I told you, I've never been perfect."

Slowly, she nodded, leaning down to tuck the card between the back of her iPad and it's case.

"Why don't you head back downstairs? Take a couple of minutes to pull yourself together so no one suspects you were in here crying. When Kennedy comes back, I'll tell him we were finished and you went back to your desk."

She took in a deep, stilted breath and nodded. Gathering her things, she checked the placement of her scarf once again as she traversed Christian's large office toward the door. When she reached out for the handle, she paused, looking back over her shoulder to see him back behind his desk.

"Thanks, Christian," she said, her voice not much more than a whisper, even more irritated now from all the crying than it had been before this meeting started. But still, he heard her.

"Any time."

And she knew he meant it.


	16. Chapter 16

_**ANA**_

When Scott returned from his impromptu meeting with Mr. Camden, Ana was working diligently at her desk. He caught her eye, nodding toward his office door as he walked past her. She stood immediately, grabbing her iPad, quickly following him and closing the door behind her. She had been anticipating an influx of work as soon as he arrived, as long as things went well, so she'd been trying to catch up on everything else in the meantime, while simultaneously trying not to let her previous night nor her conversation with Christian affect her here at work.

"I was able to get Camden on board, so we have a lot to do in the next coming days. I need you to schedule flights for tomorrow morning to Bakersfield. Before you leave today, I need you to make these adjustments," he said holding out a piece of paper with his scratchy writing all over it, "to the contracts we prepared and have hard copies printed and digital copies ready in case anything else comes up. Liza and Jerry will be accompanying me for the trip, so set up flights and accommodations for all three of us. I'm going to have you work alongside Shelley while I'm going, assisting with anything extra I send Leslie's way as well as anything I send you personally. Anything need-to-know you can send me, the rest leave to Les."

"Yes, sir," Ana nodded, leaning forward to take the paper from his hand. Scott continued to list off things he needed done, and she quickly took notes and started making the plans. It was a saving grace, truly, that he wasn't asking her to accompany him. She really needed the time to think.

X Three Days Later X

Taking a sip of the fruity wine, Ana wondering if she would even need it. Not because she could do this without it, no, she definitely needed it for that. But because she didn't know if Scott would even show to begin with. She knew his plane was due back to Seattle over an hour ago. It was late, almost midnight, and a work night, but she still knew there was a good chance he would show up at her place since he'd been gone for multiple days in a row. She sort of hoped that he wouldn't, though. Because, even though she'd spend the last three days building up the determination to tell him something she never imagined she'd say- that she wasn't sure she wanted to be his submissive anymore- and she was still very nervous about actually doing it. She knew she needed to, but didn't physically _want_ to. Hence the 'liquid encouragement' she'd heard mentioned on TV and in movies. And it seemed like real thing, seeing as it had given her encouragement enough to straddle Christian Grey in his Audi a week ago. She just had to hope it also gave her enough courage to do this.

Finishing the once _full_ glass of wine in her hand, she stared at the clock, the silence in the house seemingly deafening as she waited for the clicking of her front door, announcing her visitor. It was exhausting to be on such high alert. And even more so since she'd been mentally taxed to the limit the last few days debating the merits of the various paths she could take in her life from this point forward. She'd stared at Dr. Flynn's card so much she knew the phone number by heart.

And yet, she hadn't called. Instead, she'd come to the conclusion that she wanted to just be honest with Scott. After all they'd been through, after all he'd done for her over the years, she decided that she at least owed that to him. This may have gone off the rails as of late, but before that, things has always been so good. She'd truly been happy in their arrangement for years, and Scott didn't deserve for her to walk away without an explanation.

Not that she could, since he held the keys to everything in her life right now anyway. Everything in her life was tied to him, so it was in her best interests to end things with him on good terms. So her plan was to tell him she wasn't sure she wanted their relationship to continue down this particular path anymore. And if she could just keep her job, if he would allow her that, she could slowly pay him back for all the things in her life. She would pay him rent, make payments toward her car. Eventually she could own these things free and clear, and everything would be okay.

So lost in the circle of thoughts that had plagued her for days, coupled with the now swimmy feeling that the second full glass of wine had given her, she missed the telltale click she'd been waiting to hear, and didn't notice Scott had arrived until he was standing in her doorway, shedding himself of his jacket. He flicked on a lamp, bathing her room in a soft glow, startling her back into the here and now.

"Sir," she said out of sheer habit as she sat up quickly, "I didn't hear you come in."

"I'm sure you expected me though, right?" he asked cheekily. He was in a good mood, so that was a plus.

"I wasn't sure.." she trailed off, watching him slide his t-shirt over his head, leaving him bare-chested.

"I'll be quick tonight. Just to take the edge off," he explained. "On your knees. Naked."

"Scott," she hesitated, using his given name due to the topic she was about to broach. She pulled her arms tightly around herself, not making any move to leave the bed. "We need to talk." She felt sick to her stomach now that the moment had arrived. But she needed to do this. She needed to get it out now. Like tearing off a bandaid, she needed to just get the idea out there.

He raised an eyebrow, his face clearly displaying his displeasure and irritation at her not immediately heeding his command. "Ana," he warned. She flinched, so unused to defying him. She inherently hated to displease him.

"No," she said, albeit weakly, shaking her head. "We need to talk."

"What's this about?" he asked, his face hard and his body tensing with anger as the seconds ticked by.

"I'm not sure I-" she started.

"You're not sure you _what_?" he jumped in before she could finish.

She could hear the blood whirring in her ears, feel the wine how churning in her otherwise empty stomach. _It's now or never, Ana. Just say it._

"I'm not sure I want to be… a submissive… anymore," she finally pushed out. Her eyes instinctively fell to her lap, so she missed when his eyes caught sight of the half empty bottle of wine on her bedside table. There, she'd said it. She'd actually managed to do it.

She waited, expecting anger, but as the seconds ticked by, nothing came. No yelling or demanding or anything. Just a long silence. She was too nervous to be the one to break it. She was hyper aware of every small movement she made, every breath she took into her lungs, every _everything_ as she waited for him to respond in some way. She kept her eyes down and locked on her hands in her lap, willing her palms to not shake, willing herself to breath normal and not freak out.

"Ana, baby, look at me," he finally said, his voice calm and his tone low. She did, and was met with gentle, understanding eyes. "Ana, I can honestly say I'm shocked. I had no idea you were questioning what we have. And I'd be lying if I said it didn't cut me to the bone. You mean a great deal to me. May I ask, why are you questioning us now, after all this time?"

Taking a deep breath, Ana searched deep for courage enough to be honest and stand up for herself. "You made me feel unsafe the other night. With the-" _strangling_ , "breath play. I was terrified and you couldn't even tell. That or… you didn't want to see it," she finished softly, surprising herself that she'd actually been able to be so open.

"Ana," her name left his lips in a harsh whisper, one that forced her to look at his face in surprise, seeing it twisted in regret and upset. "I had _no_ idea," he said, sounding truly horrified. "Why didn't you say something? Why didn't you _safeword_? I would never want you to feel unsafe or, God forbid, _terrified_ , at my hand! Never!"

She sat there, worrying her fingers over her thighs now, twisting them together, spreading them back out, again and again.

"When have I ever done that to you before?" he probed, taking her hands in his and grasping them tightly.

"Never," she admitted with a shake of her head. She'd always felt safe with him in the past. That was just another reason that night had culminated into such a disaster, because it was so blindsiding for her.

"I didn't ask you to break your hard limit, did I?" he urged.

"No," she said in a quick, tight release of breath. It was true. He'd pushed her limits, but never once insinuated her wanted her to break them. Everything had always been at her discretion.

"And I asked you before hand if you were sure? I told you I need to know you were doing this for the right reasons, and you assured me that you were. What am I supposed to do if _I_ can't trust _you_ , Ana? How can you fault me when _you_ were the one who was dishonest, who didn't safeword when she felt unsafe?"

"I-" she broke off, confused now. She hadn't thought of it that way. Trust was a two way street, and Scott did trust her to safeword when she needed to. She _should_ have safeworded, she knew that. She knew that the moment it had ended and she was left feeling hollow and broken. But she just hadn't been able to. She hadn't- she didn't know what had happened but she had been out of her mind and hadn't managed to do it. But… was _that_ Scott's fault? Not really, no.

"Ana, I don't ever want to cause you emotional pain or physical harm past what you can take. I wish I could take it back so much. I wish I'd known how you were feeling and I would have stopped."

Mulling over everything he's just said to her, Ana knew he was right about her role in this. She still wished he'd been able to read her better, to take cues from her that screamed how awful she'd felt at the time even if she didn't safeword. But ultimately, that was the catch. She hadn't, and that _was_ on her. She nodded slowly, accepting that he genuinely felt remorseful.

"I don't want this one bad experience to taint the years of bliss we've shared," he said, his voice imploring. "Think of the amazing scenes we've shared. Think of every good moment before you use the **one** bad to overrule them all. I understand why this incident has you questioning us, but you shouldn't let it. We're perfect together. You and me, we're a phenomenal team. And not just in scenes, but in life. You're the person in my life who I'm closest to, who I share most of my time, my body, my success in my career. You've been the best part of me for so long. Losing you would be like losing a huge part of myself."

Ana watched in surprise as Scott smoothly slid off the bed and down onto his knees in front of her. Her thighs automatically spread to make room for him as he kneeled before her. He was pulled straight, not sitting back on his haunches, so with his height he reached just a little shorter than her own seated height. His fingers reached for her hair, twisting the ends between his fingers before slipping through the strands at her scalp. She closed her eyes, still conflicted, but felt her body surrender to him of it's own volition, like a natural reaction. His lips caught hers gently, coaxing her mouth to open so they should share an intimate, meaningful kiss.

God, she was so sure that she knew what she wanted before he came here. So sure that she wanted to be done with this. But Scott had brought up some good points. And at the end of the day, what would life be like without him? He was all she'd known for so long, and facing a world without his guidance seemed like an insurmountable task. But still, that night loomed large in her mind. They'd had their hiccups in the playroom before, but never anything like _that_ night. Twenty minutes ago she was willing to give up everything just to make sure she never felt like that again. But now... Why was this so hard? She felt her gut flipping at the tug of war going on in her mind. _What was she supposed to do?_

"You are so beautiful, Ana. So strong," he whispered against her mouth, his right hand leaving her hair to travel lightly down the outline of her body. His lips continued to massage hers, his tongue twisting and dipping against hers in a slow, sensual way. Despite her severely clashing thoughts, her body reacted in the way it had been meticulously trained to do. It surrendered.

"You never questioned us before because we've always felt right to you," he said, trailing kisses across her skin. "You know we're good together. You've told me you love what we are countless times. I never forced you to do any of this. You were always willing, always wanting. I'm the only person who has ever been here for you, the only one who understands you. You have given me great pleasure over the years by freely giving me the greatest gift in the world- your submission. _You_ have all the power between us Ana, not me. You always have. Haven't I told you that all along? How many times did I tell you that when we were just starting out?"

"Countless," she admitted.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, Ana. Let me show you how sorry I am." His lips pressed to her knee as he looked up at her, asking. Scott never asked. He always took, as was his right as her Dom. "Please," he asked, pressing a kiss to her other leg, this time just inside of her thigh. "Please," he whispered again, huskier, his lips back to the other leg, further up. And they continued the pattern, back and forth, leg to leg, closer and closer until she was wide open and his lips were pressing against her core.

 _ **SCOTT**_

She'd been drinking.

He knew it. She was a little unsteady, her speech a little unclear. And of course, there was a half empty bottle of wine by her bed. He wanted to be furious- he **was** _furious_. But that wasn't going to do him any good here. No, what he needed to be was kind and understanding and caring. He needed to lure her back in with the false sense of security that had kept her in her place all of these years.

He wasn't sure what was going in between Ana and Christian Grey, but he'd be willing to bet that whatever was going on with her, _had been_ going on with her, had to do with _him_. It was no coincidence that she was with him alone in his office and when Scott came back from California, suddenly Ana was questioning her entire life. Maybe he'd been a little overzealous during their scene the other night, but nothing about it warranted this sudden change of mind for her. Somehow, someway, Christian Grey had wormed his way into Ana's mind and was infecting her. He needed to put a stop to it if he was going to keep his strong hold on her.

Starting with eating her pussy until she was delirious.

Sex was one of the biggest tools he had at his disposal to use against her. He'd groomed her just the way he liked her from the start. Using her own body against her was something he'd been doing since day one. And it would serve him well tonight. The more they sat here and talked, the more intoxicated she seemed to become, leading him to believe she'd consumed a lot in a small time frame right before he'd shown up at her door. And as angry as he was that she was drinking, it would actually help him tonight. Ana didn't drink, so she had no tolerance, no filter crafted from experience. He could use her intoxicated state against her.

He needed a plan. And in order to form one properly, he needed to find out what secrets Ana was hiding, especially in regard to Christian Grey. With slow precision, he worked his tongue and his lips over her soft, wet flesh. Giving her a quick orgasm wouldn't work here. He wanted to give her a long, slow, drawn out experience, one that, coupled with the wine, could knock her out so he could snoop around and gather information. He took brief breaks from his ministrations every few minutes to tell her things to keep urging her to change her mind about them

" _I enjoy taking care of you."_

The build up was torturous, and he had to stop himself multiple times from lowering his pants and impaling her tight little pussy with his cock.

" _I want to make you happy. It pleases me so much. Just like it has always pleased you to make me happy."_

It had been four long fucking days and he desperately wanted to bury himself in her. But this wasn't about him. Un-fucking-fortunately.

" _There's nothing wrong with us enjoying pleasing each other in the privacy of our own homes. Don't let anything take that away from us."_

At that point, her hand snuck into his hair, holding tight at the roots and pushing his mouth against her as her hips began to gyrate against him, something he never had allowed and something she never would have done sober. He growled, using all of his self-restraint not to punish her for it. Fuck, he wanted to, wanted her, but this wasn't about that, not right now. So he stayed the course, his fingers rubbing against her g-spot and his tongue massaging her clit, her nails scratched at his scalp, her hips seeking his deep attention.

Finally, she seized up and released for him.

Tenderly he brought her down, hoping to lull her into a deep sleep. His fingers slowly brushed her skin, calming her, relaxing her body and her mind. Her watched a few long blinks before her eyes closed, her breath evening out as the moments ticked by. His lips placed gentle, tender kisses on her thighs, her hips, her shoulders, her face. His fingers brushed through her hair, pulling it back from her face and she hummed lightly in appreciation. And when he was sure she'd turned the corner into slumber, watched her. So peaceful.

"I won't lose you, Ana," he whispered, pressing his lips to her ear.

"Mmm," she moaned softly.

"You are mine," he continued, his fingertips trailing down her sternum, swirling around a nipple. Her chest arched to his touch, and he smiled to himself. He moved so he hovered half over her, his tongue darting out to touch the very tip of her nipple. She moaned again and he grinned, wrapping his lips around the little bud and sucking it lightly. Maybe he could fuck her. Just a quick fuck. He was rock hard and- No. Fuck, no. As much as he wanted to, there was a more pressing matter at hand. After one last kiss to her breast, he pulled back, picking up the blanket off the end of the bed to cover her up. He saw her iPod docked on a stereo on her dresser and the idea struck to put on some soft music to help cover up any noise he might make while looking around. He found a softer artist and hit play before turning his attention to her room.

Now. To find some evidence.

He started with her dresser, sifting carefully through her lingerie, her socks, her bed clothes, looking for anything shoved into back corners. He found a pamphlet for a local college shoved under a neatly laid out stack of bras, huffing in frustration as he looked at it. Was she still on the college thing? Fuck, what was it going to take to get her to let that go? Forcing himself to put it back, he moved on. Her collegiate dreams weren't what he needed to focus on right now.

He checked her closet, under her bed, in her bedside table. There, he found a lone photo of her and her stepfather Raymond Steele, taken when she was in her cap and gown at her high school graduation. Scott placed his thumb over the face of the smiling, proud father's face and looked at Ana, tracing a fingertip down the edge of her face and into her hair, He hadn't aged much since the photo was taken, but there was some differences. He remembered when he'd gone up and offered to take this photo of the two of them. Ray was the only person there for Ana the day of her graduation, her mother being the deadbeat that she was. But Ray had been busting at the seams with pride for his step-daughter. Scott had gotten a twisted sense of pleasure out of approaching him, commenting on how sweet and smart his little girl was. How much of a pleasure it was having her… in class, of course. He shook his hand. He'd looked the man in the eye, the man whose daughter he'd been fucking secretly for years, who he would be fucking later on that night while Ray though Ana was at a graduation party.

Scott took a deep breath, returning to the moment after reliving the thrill of that day. _Focus._

Wandering out of her room, he continued his search in the living room. He checked desk drawers, end tables, sifted through a stack of papers on the kitchen counter. He even found her purse and inspected its contents, but found nothing of consequence. He was frustrated and getting angrier as the minutes piled up and still he had nothing.

He threw himself down onto the couch, releasing an annoyed growl from the back of his throat. He forewent fucking her in favor of this search and it had yielded nothing. What a waste. He thought about cutting his losses and going back into her room. He was sure she wouldn't resist him, if she even really woke up at this point. She was already naked…

That was when his eyes caught her bookshelf.

Narrowing his gaze he noticed a book that seemed very out of place, though it was inconspicuously shoved in with the rest.

Getting back up, he walked over, pulling it off the shelf.

 **Tess of d'Urbervilles**

Holy shit. It was a first edition! Where the fuck did she get first editions of-

Christian-Motherfucking-Grey. He was instantly sure of it. It was the only answer that made sense.

He debated for a moment on what to do. A very real part of him wanted to tear every single page out of the damn thing. Ana was bolder than he'd realized. She'd been keeping things from him. And for how long? And what _else_? And Christian Grey- he wanted to put the book in the shredder and mail it back to him in scraps.

Shoving it angrily back into it's place on the shelf, it hit something, preventing it from going back all the way. He pulled it back out, reaching into the space and grabbing the offending object.

A phone.

A goddamn motherfucking **phone**.

He was seething.

It was powered down, so he held the button, waiting impatiently for it to start up. As soon as it did, Scott saw the notification about misses text messages from the contact boldly glaring back at him.

'Christian'.

He gripped the phone tightly using all of his willpower not to simultaneously scream and throw the phone through the fucking window. He wanted so badly to read through the messages.

But that was too impulsive. If he read them, Ana would know that he knew this phone existed. But he needed to handle this properly. He needed to find out what **exactly** _Mr. Grey_ knew before he did anything. He needed to be prepared in the event that Ana told him details about their personal life. Would she have? Could she have really told him about them? Everything? Some things? Did Grey know that Scott spent his nights inside of Ana's sweet little cunt? If he did, did he know about the BDSM? Did he know about Ana's age when it all started? There were statues of limitations that protected him from that- hell, he'd even celebrated the day when it could no longer come back to bite him in the ass. But it could ruin his business… Which was now technically Grey's business too. One he'd wanted and needed. Would he risk it for some pussy?

Following that line of thought, what were Grey's motives where Ana was concerned? Was it purely sexual? He was a rich, attractive man. He could have anyone he wanted. Was Ana about the hunt? If Scott loaned her out for a night, would Grey back off? He really didn't like to share, but maybe just this once, he could do it to keep his work life flowing easily. He could order Ana to give Grey one night, no holds barred, to get out anything and everything he wanted to do to her, and then they could all move on. But what if that wasn't what Grey was looking for? It could be dangerous to offer it to him. It could backfire.

Carefully placing the phone back up flat against the back of the shelf, he put the book back just the way he had found it.

More information. That was what was needed.


	17. Chapter 17

_**CHRISTIAN**_

Christian had been going nuts since the emotionally charged conversation he'd had with Ana in his office. He'd really expected to hear from her, to hear that she'd made an appointment with John Flynn, or maybe even that she'd left Kennedy. Something. _Anything_ to show she was getting out and getting help. He was slightly affronted that she wasn't confiding in him, that after opening up to him, first about what her relationship with Kennedy actually entailed, and now about the night he has spent tormenting her. And now? Nothing. Not a word.

The truth was, he wanted to be the one to help her through this. He _wanted_ to be the one she turned to for support. He felt like she needed that in her life, and, selfish as he sometimes felt for worrying about himself in relation to her deep set emotional trauma, he knew he wanted to be the one she turned to. He felt guilt about it late at night, sometimes, when he allowed himself to self-obsess about what place he held and could possibly hold in her life. First and foremost he wanted to get her the help she needed, because he wanted her to be able to lead a happy and healthy life from this point on, but he also could admit to himself, and only himself, that there was something else there. A fire that burned inside of his gut where she was concerned. And once she was able to conquer all the demons in her life, he knew what he really hoped for was the chance to explore that newfound happiness _with_ her. He wanted her to be a part of his life, and vice versa. He knew that, reasonably, all of that was such a long way off, but he couldn't help but try and grasp onto it.

If only she would _call_.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thoughts that seemed to plague him almost constantly. She would call. She had a lot going on, and she would call when she was ready. After the other day when he'd learned that Taylor had had the pleasure of smashing his fist against Kennedy's face, Christian had had a long discussion with his CPO about what had led to the event. That was when he'd learned about Taylor's hiring of Luke Sawyer to covertly watch over Ana. He'd actually come within an inch of firing the man who had protected him the last 6 years, as he'd refused to divulge much of what Sawyer had witnessed between them, claiming that it wasn't his information to tell, and that it was stuff that Christian wouldn't want to know anyway. Stuff that would keep him up obsessing late at night. _"Trust me sir, you don't want to know. Sawyer has had the displeasure of witnessing a lot of sexual acts between Kennedy and Miss Steele, and you don't want that shit in your head."_

Christian's gut roiled again even now at the thought. Obviously some of it was jarring enough to cause the normally stoic Taylor to hit Kennedy in the face. So at the end of the day, Christian agreed to let his CPO make the call that it was something he didn't want in his own head. Plus, any details should come from Ana. He liked that Taylor and Sawyer were there to try and ensure her safety, but if he wanted a future with her, it was best that he not be privy to things she didn't explicitly share with him herself. He'd already crossed a line where her trust was concerned by informing Taylor of her relationship with Kennedy. And she wasn't even aware of Sawyer… He swallowed hard. Ana had gone 6 years without anyone knowing she was with Kennedy. Then she tells Christian, and suddenly two more people know within a week. True, he hadn't hired Sawyer, but it was because he told Taylor that Sawyer was brought into the fold. He could only hope that once Ana found out, she would understand that this was all done with her best interests at heart.

Taking in a determined breath, Christian snapped his attention back to the papers that lay sprawled out across his desk, making a greater effort to submerge himself in work. He'd been trying desperately to outrun the line of thought his brain always seemed to end up at: Ana. And he managed it for about forty minutes or so, until Taylor showed up at his door.

"A moment, sir?"

"Of course," he said, nodding toward the chair in front of his desk while he rapidly finished typing out a response to an email.

"There has been a turn of events of which I believe you would want to be privy."

"Is everything okay with my family, with GEH?" Christian asked, closing his laptop and immediately giving Taylor is undivided attention.

"It's regarding Miss Steele, sir," Taylor said, looking Christian straight in the eye.

Christian fell back in his chair, letting out a long, loud breath. "What it is?" he asked, almost dejectedly, knowing from years of experience with his CPO's body language that Taylor was about to deliver bad news.

"Scott Kennedy returned from his business trip late this evening. He went directly to Miss Steele's apartment, and he's been in there for the last seventy five minutes."

Christian's eyes squeezed shut as his hand immediately yanked through his hair. "Goddamnit," he muttered, slamming his fists down on the desk. "God fucking damnit!" Abruptly, he stood, his chair shooting back and bouncing off the floorlength glass window behind him. "Why? Why is it that every _fucking_ time-" he cut himself off, Then before he gave himself any time to think about it, he was rounding his desk. "I'm going to her apartment."

"Sir…" Taylor tried to cut in, but Christian was a man on a mission.

"Now Taylor," he spat, traversing his office in a few strides, diverting to his room to quickly throw on some jeans, a t-shirt and the first pair of running shoes he saw.

Taylor was already waiting by the elevator door, car keys in hand when Christian was done.

"I've got this, Taylor," he said holding out his hand for the keys.

"Sorry, sir. But I cannot allow that," he said, adding an additional, "Sir," when he saw the fire flickering in his boss' gaze.

Christian grunted, but nodded as the elevator doors slid silently open and both men stepped into the car. The tension was permeating the small space, and continued to do so in the SUV once they were out of the Escala parking garage and on their way to imminent confrontation.

Christian was seething, his muscles tight and loose at the same time, aching to be used in some sort of forceful action. He could feel the adrenaline running through his veins, and he wasn't sure he'd ever been this overwhelmed with pure frustration before. His brain wasn't evening thinking coherent thoughts at the moment, it was all just a jumbled mess of total vexation. He didn't once consider what this could do to his and Ana's relationship, if he showed up and confronted Kennedy about all of this in her apartment. All he knew was that he was told that Kennedy was in there with her, and he was going to do whatever he needed to get him out.

His heart thrummed wildly in his chest, his jaw and his fists tightening and loosening over and over as he primed his body for a confrontation. He hadn't had this type of physical desire to fight since he was a teenager, before therapy helped him sort out all of his touch issues and frustrations. But everything he'd learned in therapy was out the window right now. Right now he was dying to give in to the itch, the impulse to fight.

As soon as Taylor pulled into her parking lot, the back door shot open and Christian's body hurled out of the vehicle.

But he was stopped short by someone calling his name.

"Mr Grey!"

He turned, looking around, realizing it was coming from a person stepping out of another black Audi SUV. "Mr. Grey," the man said again, but now Taylor was standing next to him.

"That's Luke Sawyer, sir," Taylor informed him.

"Mr. Kennedy just left about five minutes ago, sir," Luke informed Christian.

Christian felt his body scream with displeasure at the fact that it wouldn't get to exert itself physically. He was so fucking ready, needing this like he'd never needed a fight before.

And what that translated to, what _could_ be fulfilled, was his need for a confrontation.

And so, without stopping to consider what he was doing, he took off for Ana's apartment. He heard Taylor calling for him, trying to urge him not to reconsider, but he didn't listen, leaving him behind in the parking lot while he went to confront Ana.

He skipped the elevator, too impatient to wait, taking the stairs two at a time.

He knocked on her door, loudly and aggressively, the sting of his knuckles rapping on the hard wood a welcome feeling to his over anxious hands. He gave little time between bouts of knocks, impatient for Ana to open the door.

After what felt like forever, the door opened in front of him, revealing Ana. A disheveled, mussed up Ana, blinking back sleep and confusion. He cringed, already knowing exactly why she looked the way she did, and it only served to further heighten the already astronomic amounts of tension coursing through his mind and body.

"Mr. Grey," she replied, uneasily, tugging at her robe over her chest to pull it tighter against her skin. "What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk, Ana," he said, pushing past her and walking into her apartment without invitation.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Mr. Grey. I think you should leave," she said meekly, her voice wavering slightly with uncertainty.

"Have you called John Flynn?" he asked, looking around her apartment, not sure what he was looking for, but looking nonetheless.

"I haven't," she said, not looking him in the eye.

"If you're having trouble getting an appointment, I could call for you. I know he'll take you right away if I tell him-"

"I'm not having trouble getting an appointment, Mr. Grey. I just have decided not to call." Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He run his fingers through his hair, grabbing handfuls and tugging painfully.

"Why?" he asked, his tone dark.

Ana took in a deep breath, and he watched her straighten up, taking on a look of confidence as she raised her chin and said, "Scott and I sat down and had a discussion about what happened. We resolved the issue."

"How? How did you _resolve_ the fact that he **choked** you?"

She winced.

In the back of his mind he heard the first warning bells that he needed to stop what he was doing, that this wasn't going to help anything, but he dismissed them as the anger rolled back around to the forefront of his thoughts.

"Go on. Tell me. Tell me how you resolved the fact that he fucking choked you Anastasia. I'll all fucking ears," he said, his tone bleeding condescension and derision.

He saw her eyes narrow at him as he sat down on her couch, resting back, placing his right ankle on his left knee and sweeping his arms out in a grandiose display, like he was giving her the floor.

And she took it, with a gentle dignity. "I was honest with him about what I was feeling and he helped explain what happened from his perspective. He wasn't trying to be malicious that night. And I didn't use my safewords, so he really had no way of knowing I was uncomfortable with what was happening. He helped me realize what I was really feeling."

Christian let out a scoffing laugh, immediately jumping up from his position on the couch, not looking at her as he shouted, pacing, throwing his hands around in exaggerated movements. "He helped you realize what you were really feeling. **He** helped you _realize_ what **you** were really feeling. Wow. Just… wow. Ana. Are you being intentionally obtuse? Because I can't believe you're being so naive about this. He _manipulated_ you into feeling what **he** _wanted_ you to feel. _That's_ what he did. He doesn't _allow_ you to have your own fucking feelings. He tells you what to see, think, feel, do, and you do without hesitation. He _owns_ you. You are his little toy. His little marionette to pull the strings on as he pleases so he can watch you dance and bend to his will."

But as soon as he finished his diatribe, he felt his mood shifting from anger to angst, from frustration to concern, from irritation to desperation. His tone shifted with it, the volume of his voice lowering, the aggressive edge gone.

This poor girl was so lost.

He looked up at her, finding her completely drawn into herself. Her eyes were empty, staring straight ahead, straight through him, and it felt like a punch to the gut. Her arms were crossed at her waist, hugging herself, her face void of any emotion.

Shit.

"Ana," he went to her, reaching to touch her arms, but she drew them more tightly around herself, so he froze and instead attempted to plead his case more gently. "Ana, he will say anything to you to get you to stay under his thumb, don't you see that? He's lying to you. Your best bet is not honesty with _him_ , it's honestly with yourself and with a therapist- someone who has your best interests at heart! Talking to him won't help you see clearly. It will only allow him to cloud your judgement further and find new ways to warp what you're thinking. Your initial reaction was distrust, that you felt unsafe. **Those** are your true feelings. Don't let him take them away from you."

But she said nothing, just continued to stare past him.

"Ana…" he tried, desperate to backpedal and reverse the damage he'd caused, but he could tell she had completely shut down on him. And he knew it was all his fault.

"I would like you to leave, Mr. Grey," she said, her tone soft and flat.

"Ana, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have- I just wanted to-"

"I think you've done and said enough, Mr. Grey." He tried desperately to identify any hurt in her tone, anything that showed she was just in self-preservation mode, something he could feed off of and use as an excuse to stick around and try and pull her back out. But he found nothing. Only coldness, emptiness. And it slice through him. "Go," she said with such finality he felt sick.

But still, he listened, ambling slowly toward the door, looking back at her. But she gave him nothing.

He was reeling as he aimlessly trekked back to the car. He saw Taylor and Sawyer still standing next to each other, talking, but both stopped as he approached. Taylor gave him a curious look, which Christian ignored as he walked right past them and went straight to the back seat of the idling Audi.

Taylor took his seat behind the wheel, knowing better than to ask questions, or even talk at all. He just kept his eyes on the road as he began the drive back to Escala, and Christian sat silently in the backseat, replaying the disastrous chain of events over and over in his head.

How could he have allowed himself to fuck things up so badly?

He'd told himself that he needed to give her time, to be patient and allow her to work through these things at her own pace, and even then, hopefully, with a professional. But knowing Kennedy was at her place had sent him him a frenzy. And now he was paying the cost of flying off the handle about it. Now he would suffer the repercussions of not remaining calm and pushing her too hard.

His gut ate away at itself in the backseat of the SUV as he traveled through the streets of Seattle. He was worried that he'd blown his chance at helping her escape from this situation, that she would be dragged back down by Kennedy and never get out. He should have known from the start that her newfound hesitance might not be strong enough to break her free, that she would need continuous encouragement over these last days to keep her on the right path. He should have gently urged her to call Flynn, kept on her about getting out. Her not contacting him was a red flag in itself. He should have followed up sooner, when he would have had a chance, and when he could have been calmer.

So what now? Should he walk away? But how could he? How could he leave her to the wolves when he knew she has no one else to help her? What kind of person would that make him? No matter how hard it was to watch her turn back to Kennedy over and over again, he knew that the truth was, if he didn't help her, who would?


	18. Chapter 18

_*****TWO CHAPTERS HAVE BEEN UPLOADED. MAKE SURE TO READ CHAPTER 18 BEFORE CHAPTER 19!*****_

 _ **Scott**_

"He agreed," he said, placing the phone down on the coffee table in front of him. Ana didn't move, didn't look up at him, just continued to hold her position immobile on the couch to his left. "This is a good thing, Ana. This will fix so many of the messes you've gotten us into by communicating with him behind my back." The comment was said softly, but the undertone was biting, and he saw her flinch as a result, her fingers tensing, the tips flexing into the skin of her thighs.

He knew she was tired. Afterall, he'd kept her up all night long. When he'd gotten to her place last night, he'd wordlessly led her into her room and bound her arms and legs to the four poster bed. He'd built up the tension, remaining silent as he'd secured her tightly to the bed, tearing off her clothing, walking around her, teasing her body. He'd brought her to the brink of orgasm with a vibrator, and that was when he finally spoke, asking her just how much contact she'd had with Christian Grey.

Slowly he tortured her, bringing her to near-orgasm after near-orgasm, always denying her as he asked her about the books, the phone, and just how much she'd shared with him about the true nature of their 'relationship'. In the end, she'd told him the truth- everything. Grey knew _everything_. It was the worst case scenario, but Scott was prepared for it. He'd already come up with various plans of attack, based off what Ana might have shared.

So he spent the rest of the night fucking her into oblivion, setting alarms to allow him small reprieves and keep her tired and disoriented. He alternated fucking her with his own cock and with a dildo. He fucked her pussy so long and so hard until she was inflamed and sore, and then he treated her to tender sessions of cunnilingus, only to continue to deny her orgasms. By sunrise, she was a shaking, horrible mess- her skin covered in sweat, her hair matted to her face and neck, her muscles twitching every other second. But she took her punishment, knowing she deserved it more than any punishment she'd ever deserved in the past. Which was perfect, considering this punishment served dual functions for his plan.

By the third rough fuck, the tears were gone and she was completely void of any reaction, and only then, when he was sure her spirit was completely snapped, did he finally let her finish out the last two hours of the night in a fitful sleep. Her being sore and uncomfortable was vital, because when she did what he planned for her to do, when she went to Christian Grey's home to fuck him, he wanted it to be painful for her. He wanted Grey to finally get a chance to stick his greedy cock in her, and have her miserable. He wanted Ana to hate every second of it, and he wanted Grey to see the woman he'd been pining for squirm in discomfort underneath him. He wanted them to fuck, and he wanted it to be miserable for both of them. With any luck, it would be so bad Grey would be completely turned off and leave Ana the fuck alone.

A fake meeting in their calendar allowed him to keep her home for the first part of their morning instead of being at the office. He woke her around eight to explain his plan to her. She barely made a sound, seemingly on autopilot while he ordered her up and into the shower before telling her to meet him in the living room.

She came out fifteen minutes later in a robe with her wet hair combed and hanging down her back. He'd ordered her remove the robe so she had nothing to shield her, no sense of privacy or protection. She'd obediently done so, her eyes never leaving the ground, and took her seat, her posture tight and alert. Normally he valued her silence and absolute obedience. But he was still so furious at her that he was looking to force a rise out of her while telling her his plan. He was thriving on the idea of systematically breaking her over and over again. She would never forget the implications of these actions, he would make sure of it. She would never dare defy him again.

She'd reacted as he hoped. She came back to life. And she was horrified.

" _I can't- how can you ask me to do this? I can't…"_

" _We have no choice here. Don't you want him out of your life, of our lives? He's prying, sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. This is the reality check he needs."_

" _But sir-"_

" _This isn't a request, Ana. This is a demand."_

" _I have a hard limit against sharing, sir," she said, indignant tears in her eyes._

" _This isn't as simple as sharing, Anastasia. Sharing would be me passing you off like a cup of sugar, willingly handing you over to another man for you to be fucked over and over again and returned to me when he's had his fill, for no other reason than because I own you, so I can. This is about protecting ourselves, our reputation. Nothing good can come from Christian Grey pursuing you. We need to get him off our backs, and this is the quickest, most efficient way to do so."_

" _I just don't think I can. How can I-"_

" _You just do it. Don't think about it. Just_ _ **do**_ _it." He paused. "And… If you agree," he said, pulling a piece of paper off of the coffee table and handed it to her. He watched her look over the application he'd already filled out for her before looking up at him in disbelief._

 _He saw the spark of hope in her eyes. "School, sir?"_

" _Yes. But only if you do this."_

 _She looked greatly conflicted, like a war was waging on the inside, and slowly he saw sadness seep further and further into her features, her resolve to say no to this slipping away until she finally gave him one simple, tight nod._

She'd shut back down again after that, completely withdrawing into herself, head down, motionless, silent.

He'd used college to sweeten the pot, and gotten her to agree in the end. It irritated him that she'd agreed only in exchange for school. It was selfish on her part. She _should_ have agreed because he was her master and she should _always_ agree to his bidding because that was her role. Not that it mattered, since he had no intention of actually allowing her to attend school. He'd 'considered' it before, too, and the answer was always the same. He'd obviously let her off her leash enough as it was, having entirely too much faith in her to remain loyal to him. He'd expanded her world by joining his company with GEH, and immediately she'd made connections outside of what he allowed for her. She couldn't be trusted. The last thing he would do is allow her even _more_ freedoms.

Truthfully, he was livid with her. It gave him a deep sense of pleasure to force her to do this. She'd admitted to him that she had an attraction to Christian Grey. He'd been able to keep up the impassive facade as she'd admitted this, but inside he was furious. While he thought his little submissive was quietly tucked away at home, she'd been interacting with another man. And he could see from her undeleted calls and texts on her cellphone that, though most of the communication seemed to originate from Grey, it wasn't entirely one sided. It seemed his _sub_ still had some lessons to learn about her role in this world. It was almost funny how she thought she could have a say in this, after all she'd done. She'd gone behind his back and she thought she was entitled to a _choice_?

She was in for quite a wake up call once this was all over. Her continued punishment for this was going to be something she wouldn't forget for the rest of her life. He'd already put in the week's vacation time for both of them, which she would spend secured in his dungeon at home. The fact that she thought she deserved to go to school after so royally fucking everything up was unfathomable. But all in due time. He'd make her pay for the error of her ways. But first, he needed her to do this to get Christian Grey out of the picture.

"So tomorrow, eight PM sharp. You'll arrive at his home. Don't let him get you talking. You don't want him asking questions. He wants you Ana. He's wanted you since you first stepped into his office at that meeting. He's wanted what's mine, and he's tried to go behind my back to take it." He leaned forward, his voice dropping an octave to something more sensual as he eyed her bare legs. "And I can't blame him. You are, after all, a very beautiful, very sexy young woman," he said, running a fingertip along the outer swell of her breast. But she just flinched, which pissed him off, even though he knew it was because of his deliberate all-night fuck-a-thon that she did so. He glowered at her, though she wasn't looking at him to see it, and leaned back, his voice returning to its calculated, businesslike tone. "Men can be so weak when it comes to the female form. Christian Grey is no different. It's pathetic that he can't control himself where you're concerned. Sometimes I wish you weren't so beautiful, so you didn't draw the attention of other men so often," he scoffed, anger leaving as quickly as it had come as he continued, "But then I wouldn't have it to enjoy myself, would I? Maybe I should just keep you locked up in my basement where no one can ever try to steal you away from me again," he mused, laughing a deep, hearty laugh.

He tilted back his tumbler of bourbon, eyeing her as she still sat unmoving on the couch. "You'll go there and you'll fuck him, Ana. You'll have to initiate it, because I have a feeling he won't do it himself. He sees himself as your valiant white knight," he spits condescendingly. "But I'd bet my company that if you initiate sexual contact, he will crumble and give in like any other warm blooded male. As soon as he does, you need to let him take over. Let him do whatever it is he wants to do to you. No holds barred. Let him satisfy every urge he has where you're concerned. Once he gets that out of his system, I'm positive he will back off. He's confusing lust with feelings. He doesn't want to 'save' you. Why would anyone want to take on that much baggage, especially someone as attractive, rich, and powerful as Christian Grey. He can have any woman in any capacity he wishes. Why would he want to waste emotional energy on someone as damaged as you are when he can have someone better?"

He smirked to himself as he watched a blush spread across her bare skin. It had actually been a while since he'd used humiliation as a punishment. He'd add that to the running list of things he'd subject her to during their week long stay in his basement.

He checked his watch, deciding it was time they head into work. He did have meeting this afternoon, despite the fact that they were the last thing he wanted to expend mental energy on. He so wished he would be there tonight to see how this all played out. Would Ana's reaction be so bad, would the sex be so terrible that Christian Grey would turn, tail tucked between his legs and run? If he did, Scott anticipated Christian would be the one to remove _himself_ from their lives. But, maybe he would be so eager to take advantage of finally having little Miss Steele in his bed, that he would ignore her discomfort and fuck her into oblivion. If that was the case, then Ana would see that her white knight was no better than any other man who just thought with his cock. Then she would come crawling back to him herself. Either case, it was a win for Scott. He just wished he could he there to see how it all played out.

 _ **Christian**_

 **I understand. I forgive you. -A**

He sat behind his desk at Grey House, staring at the message on his phone. This was the last thing he'd expected, honestly. But there it was. He reread her response for the dozenth time, unable to believe he was seeing the two simple sentences correctly.

He'd spent last night being absolutely miserable. All of that time, all of the slowly crafted effort he'd taken to try and help pull Ana out of her situation and make her realize what Kennedy was had been blown apart in fifteen minutes because he couldn't keep his goddamn temper in check. He'd stayed up all night, not sleeping for even a moment as he bemoaned his actions over and over again in his head. He'd texted her, but there had been no response to his apologies and pleas for forgiveness.

Until now.

 **You do? -C**

He waited with bated breath.

 **I do. I just want to move on from all of this.** **-A**

And then:

 **Can I see you tonight? -A**

He felt a frisson of adrenaline shoot through him. She was forgiving him, and what's more, she wanted to see him! She was initiating a meeting between them. That was a huge, positive step for her. He always felt like he was the one chasing after her. Maybe last night, although overly harsh on his end, had sparked something in her. Maybe it actually did make her rethink letting Kennedy back in.

 **Of course. Your place? Mine? What time? -C**

It was a little eager. But fuck it, he _was_ eager.

 **Yours. 8 PM. -A**

 **I'll send a car for you at 7:30 -C**

 **I'll drive myself, thank you. -A**

 **You'll need codes to access my apartment. The code for the underground garage is 126856. The code for my penthouse is 144668. Park in bay six. -C**

 **I'll be there. 8 sharp. -A**

He cycled back through the thread of messages, rereading them to make sure he wasn't imagining the conversation that had just taken place. But there it all was. By some stroke of luck, she was forgiving him. He needed to seize this opportunity tonight. He needed to make a bigger push. Something to show her she deserved better. Something to show that there was more out there for her than just Kennedy. Maybe… maybe even making her see that _he_ was out here. Flicking his thumb across the screen, he read the messages he'd sent her last night.

 **Ana, I'm so sorry for how I behaved. I should have never said those things to you -C**

 **Talk to me. I feel terribly. I wasn't angry at you, but I took it out on you, which was wrong. None of this is your fault. -C**

 **Please, Ana. Don't shut me out. -C**

Running his hands through his hair, he willed his heart rate to slow. He was a ball of emotion and anxiety, both from remembering last night and the desperation he'd felt while typing those messages to her, as well as from relief and anticipation for tonight. Why did she want to see him? Was she going to tell him that she ended things with Kennedy? Or finally ask him for help to do so? It had to be something in that vein. Whether last night pushed her to end things with Kennedy herself, or she was going to ask him for help doing it. Either way, he was sure that this was the turning point he'd been waiting for. What else could it be? Why else would she want to see him? It was the only thing that made sense.

And now his mind was reeling with possibilities, cranking out various idea and solutions to her problems. With his vast resources, he could have her out of Kennedy's clutches in a heartbeat if she just said the word. He could have her in an apartment and a new car, get her set up with Flynn and help work out a college course schedule that she was comfortable with...

He suspected she wouldn't want the free ride, though. But he could easily find her a new position at GEH that would work around her pending school schedule. That way she was still working and earning her own way. Either way. Whatever she wanted. He would do whatever needed to be done to help her.

The rest of his work day was tedious. He was basically going through the motions as he ambled back and forth from conference room meeting to his office, office to conference room. He had little time to spare today, but he plugged away through the busy but monotonous day until he finally wrapped it up by signing a few papers and leaving them in an envelope on Andrea's desk on his way to the elevator.

Taylor rode down with him, likely sensing his tension, but surely understanding it since he'd been made aware of this evening's plans already. He knew to expect Ana at 8, and that she already had the codes to access the penthouse. "After we get home, you can have the rest of the evening off," Christian said, receiving a nod in response. Whatever happened tonight, he wanted Ana to be comfortable, and that meant not having Taylor around.

He sighed inwardly, thinking about yet another spur of the moment, fucked up thing he'd done during this whole situation- informing Taylor of Ana's personal business without consulting her on it. It could easily have cost him her trust. Hopefully she would forgive him for it in time. Christian didn't necessarily regret it, because Taylor's advice and knowledge had been beyond helpful in navigating this whole thing so far. But that didn't mean Ana would understand that, or ever agree with him on it, and so he knew it would probably be a bad idea to allow Taylor to greet her at the door, making her face a man she doesn't even know, knowing that he already knew her darkest secret.

Gail was in the kitchen when they arrived home, throwing together a quick dinner, just in case Ana was hungry. Christian wanted to have all of the bases covered.

He was ripe with tension, surges of adrenaline rushing through causing severe highs and lows- the epitome of an emotional rollercoaster. It was making him sick to his stomach.

He decided to pass a little time and try to calm his nerves by freshening up- taking a calming shower before changing into some casual clothes. But it did little for his mental state and only got him as far as seven o'clock with passing the time. He could do some work, but working sounded like the worst idea, so he found himself milling aimlessly around his apartment, looking at decorative touches he'd honestly never even stopped to notice before.

His home was very streamlined. There was little in the way of decoration, as he was never done for clutter. His furntiture was sleek and modern. A few works of art hung on the walls and a vase of flowers was by the door, but that was about it. His study was much more homey, though. That was where he spent most of his time, so that was where he hung pictures of his family- various photos of combinations of Grace, Carrick, Elliot and Mia, even his grandparents adorned the walls, mostly from large events, like Mia's high school graduation and his parent's 30th wedding anniversary. The warmth of that room was far superior to the rest of the house. Maybe it was time to consider redecorating.

The ding of the arriving elevator obliterated all of his thoughts about his home decor, whipping his mind back to the here and now, his body resurging with the temporarily forgotten angst and multiplying it. He immediately focused on the widening gap between the two steel doors, his eyes burning at the intensity of his stare.

He felt his breath hold in his chest as Ana stepped tentatively out of the elevator and into his foyer, her hair falling in it's usual soft waves down and around her shoulders. She was dressed in a casual jade green dress, the click of her shoes against the marble floors resounding off the walls in the otherwise quiet space.

She slowly closed the gap between them, stopping five or six feet in front of him. Her expression gave nothing away. She didn't look happy, sad or upset. But he did notice a hint in her eyes, a little question, a little confusion, before they left his to stare down at her hands.

"Hi," he found himself saying, his voice soft and searching. He didn't want to push her right away. He'd done enough of that yesterday.

"Hello," she responded just as softly.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked, years of ingrained etiquette coupling with uncertainty and nervousness leaving him little other option but to offer.

She shook her head slowly back and forth, her eyes darkening as he tried to read her, tried to understand what she needed, what he could do, what he _should_ do. He watched her take a step forward, the distance between them closing as she took another, and then a third. He was frozen to the spot, his mind a numb mix of confusion and desperation that left him bereft of any chance to react at all as she leaned forward, closing the gap between them.

She placed her hands lightly on his hips, steadying herself as she pushed up onto her tip toes. He automatically reached for her, placing his big hands on her tiny waist, tentatively holding her. He moaned as as her lips pressed to the underside of his jaw- once, twice. After the third time, her tongue caught the edge of his bottom lip, pressing lightly, asking entrance to his mouth which he granted without thought. Her lips and tongue brushed against his, he tightening his grip on her in response.

This kiss was nothing like their last one. That one had been frenzied and fierce, while this one was tender and slow and utterly passionate. That one had lit him on fire, while this one melted him into a puddle on the floor. That one had made him hyper aware while this one seemed to short circuit his thoughts all together. For that one, he'd still been conscious of his surroundings, of her, of what the implications of 'them' could be. For this one, he was lost in the moment, completely and utterly consumed by her.

He felt her grip tighten on his hips, her finger tips digging harder into his sides as her lips and tongue continued their slow and deliberate exploration of his mouth. He couldn't hold back the moan that escaped when her thin, warm index finger grazed his skin just under the hem of his shirt. He felt his cock jerk and swell.

Holy shit. She was really here, after everything, and she was _kissing_ him.

The primal instincts of his body took complete control as she continued to ravage his mouth with her own. All of his worry and frustration and upset disintegrated and disappeared as his senses were consumed by everything Ana. He started imagining her under him, on top of him, bent over before him. He wanted to touch her, to taste her, to smell her skin and feel its softness stretched out below the length of him. His hands twitched, suddenly eager to reach for her, to grab her, to feel her.

Gently his hands slid up her arms, her shoulders, in search of her face, gently cupping her cheeks, then sinking his fingers into her hair. He kissed her, this time, taking control, letting her know how he felt- how she made him feel. She willingly ceded control to him immediately, following his lead as he teased her lips and tongue with his.

"I'm so _attracted_ to you, Ana. I'm **drawn** to you. So completely captivated by you," he admitted against her lips. Her eyes widened a bit, almost as if she was surprised by the things he'd said, before they gave way to shyness, and he felt his heart speed up. She was so _sweet_.

He knew she was damaged and needed his support, his strength by way of friendship right now. He wished he knew how to put his feelings aside and be that for her. But right here, right now, he just didn't. He felt like a weak man around her. She was his weakness.

Yesterday, an hour ago, tomorrow… he knew and would know clearly that sleeping with her was not the answer to any of her issues, or their issues. It could only do more harm than good in the long run. But in this moment, here and now, it seemed like the perfect idea. It felt like the ideal culmination of his stress and concern over her melding with his intense feelings and temptation for her.

"Can I take you to bed?" he asked in barely a whisper.

He watched that shy happiness zap from her big blue eyes, the light dulling behind them. A reserved smile followed as she nodded, and he took a step back to assess her. Had he read it wrong?

"Ana if you don't want-" he started, but cut himself off when she shook her head.

"No. I do, Mr. Grey," she interrupted. "I'm just nervous."

He felt his gut plummet a little as she addressed him as ' .'.

"Christian, Ana. Please, just Christian."

"Christian," she confirmed.

He took her hand, bringing it up to his mouth while he looked into her eyes. He places a quick kiss to the flat area between the knuckles of each of her fingers before gently tugging her toward his bedroom.

He couldn't explain it, not even to himself, what it was that Ana did to him. On one hand he barely knew her, on another he felt like he knew her better than anyone else in the world. He didn't know her favorite food or the names of her childhood pets, but he felt a connection to her heart and soul. And that was a driving force in him, propelling his desire to protect her, to care for her, to show her what life could be and inspire her to get away from Kennedy and move on.

And he could admit to himself, especially now, that he wanted her to want to move on _with him_.

She dutifully followed him, down the hallway, past the threshold of his bedroom door. He stopped short of his bed, once again taking her into his arms and cupping her face with his hands. Each time, it felt more and more like this was exactly where she belonged- with him, in his arms, protected in his hands, and captivated by his mouth on hers.

"I've wanted you for so long, Ana. Since the moment I first met you. I've tried to fight it, but I can't anymore. I want you so badly," he whispered against the shell of her ear, pressing his nose against her soft, thick hair and inhaling the scent of her shampoo.

Their lips met once again, deep, chest clenching kisses spurring him on. His fingers traced the nape of her neck, grabbing it it, pressing against her pale skin before lightly trailing further down to her shoulders. He slipped them under the fabric of her simple maxi dress, feeling the heated skin of her back. Before he could think twice, his fingers hooked the fabric, finding it had enough give to pull toward her chest, past the rounds of her shoulders. He released it, and the whole thing fluttered down to hang at her hips, leaving her in nothing but a blush pink bra from the waist up.

His lips abandoned hers in exchange for the newly uncovered skin, pressing down to her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. He trailed his nose gently down her chest along the line of her bra, his tongue darting out to feel the swell of her breast.

"Mmm, Ana," he hummed against her sweet smelling skin, his fingers moving back to play with her bra straps, pulling them so they fell down off her shoulders. "Can I?" he asked between tender kisses across her other breast, his fingers playing with the hook closure to her bra.

"Mmhm," she hummed softly, his fingers deftly unhooking it the moment she gave the okay. He carefully pulled it from her chest, down her arms, before tossing it absently aside. With his large hands wrapped around her tiny biceps, he pulled back to get a good look at her. Her breasts were full and perky, but not so large as to overpower her slight frame. Her nipples were tight, dark pink buds perched atop flawless, pale skin that extended across every visual inch of her body. She didn't have so much as a tan line to blemish her beautiful skin.

Finally he managed to tear his eyes away and look back up to her face. Her head was down, her eyes closed, and he felt a wash of guilt at the way he's been standing there, shamelessly ogling her, obviously embarrassing her. "You're so beautiful, Ana," he crooned softly.

"Thank you, S- Christian. Thank you, Christian," she attempted to amended quickly, but he'd caught her almost slip up. Scott?! Was she about to call him _Scott_?! It sent a flash of anger through him, though not necessarily at her. However it frustrated him to no end that she could possibly have been thinking of Scott in this moment with him, while at the same time he also knew that her mind was so deeply indoctrinated by Scott that it really wasn't her fault. Scott was her beginning and end to practically every single aspect of her life. It was only natural that he stayed on her mind all the time. And that thought had Christian instantly determined to wipe Scott Kennedy from Ana's brain, at least for tonight.

Luckily her eyes were still closed, so he was able to hide his angry reaction and quell it before she realized it had existed. And as soon as it passed and his determination to keep her in this moment with him surged, he placed his index and middle fingers under her chin and gently urged it up so he could look into those beautiful blue eyes. "Look at me, baby," he said, and she did, snapping her eyes up to meet his immediately. He let his thumbs creep forward until they were tracing the lines where her breasts shifted from pale to pink, avoiding her actual nipples as he spoke, "You are breathtaking."

"Thank you," she said softly, standing up straight and still as his fingers absentmindedly caressed her.

Her demeanor was calm and collected, but her nipples had perked up with his gentle touches, letting him know she was physically affected. He felt a small seed of doubt bloom in the back of his mind as he thought about how unresponsive she seemed emotionally. She seemed so… guarded. No sighs or moans when they kissed, no wandering hands grabbing and pulling at his clothes or his hair. _She's probably just nervous_ , he thought. After all, she'd only ever been with Kennedy since she was-ugh- fifteen. She had every right to be nervous sharing her body with someone else for the first time. It was his job to make her comfortable enough to let go with him. If he wanted her reactive, wanted her in this moment with him, he would have to find a way to relax her himself. He almost smiled. Lord knew he had plenty of tools in his arsenal to use on her. He'd have her uninhibited in no time.

He placed a kiss to her cheek before letting his mouth take the path it had before, only this time he didn't have a bra in the way to stop him. He let his hot breath tease over her left nipple before slowly dragging the flat of his tongue up over the bottom edge. His hands held her body in place, and underneath them he could feel her ribcage expand as she took in a deep breath. With supreme tenderness, he wrapped his lips around the little bud, kissing it, sucking lightly, pulling back to stroke it with his tongue.

He took his time, working one breast, then the other and back again. His fingers teased down her abdomen, feeling the soft, smooth skin until they reached where her dress was pooled around her waist. Inching his fingers beneath the fabric, he stretched it past the swell of her hips until they tapered off and the dress was left to float to the floor. His hands greedily explored the newly exposed skin, caressing her hips and thighs before finally grabbing the soft flesh of her ass.

Wanting to feel her skin against his, he quickly shed himself of his t-shirt before taking her back in his arms. The feel of her on him was thrilling and had his mind racing with what it would feel like once he was actually inside of her.

His lips met hers again as he hoisted her up, carrying her the ten or so feet to his bed where he kneeled down, placing her in the center, urging her flat on her back as he continued to kiss her. The more he kissed and fondled her beautiful body, the more urgent he became to really open her up and please her. That's what had him moving down, past all the enticing parts of her torso until he was tracing his tongue over the edge of her panties.

He maneuvered his tongue, lips and fingers around her lower half, touching and kissing her lower belly, hips and thighs. He let his nose travel the crease of her thigh before burying it between her legs and inhaling deeply, The move was so utterly satisfying, because she smelled delicious. His strong hands grabbed at the hem of her panties and slowly dragged the material away from her body, tossing it behind him.

As soon as he'd revealed the last hidden part of her body, he found himself unable to look away. It had been a little while since he'd had sex with someone, but the idea of being here, now, with Ana of all people had him worked up so badly he wasn't sure he'd ever been so turned on. And to see her pretty little pussy inches away from his mouth…

He savored the moment when his tongue descended onto her wet, pink flesh, easing it against the slippery skin, gently coaxing her folds apart. He slipped one hand under her ass, tilting her to allow better access. He let his mouth explore her the way he had been all evening- with slow, determined strokes meant to wind her up and leave her begging.

Only-

She _wasn't_ begging.

His eyes darted to look at her face and she was just lying back, hands at her sides, eyes closed, chest rising and falling evenly. He faltered for a moment, his tongue halting all movement the moment he realize that his well-practiced routine to rile her up was doing no such thing.

He felt a wash of self-consciousness before deciding that maybe he just needed to double his efforts. With skilled confidence, he trailed two fingers down through her wetness before flipping and hooking them up inside of her. His tongue, focused on just her clit now, went to work as his fingers pulsated against the area inside of her, located directly behind where his tongue was now busy.

With eager authority, he worked her body, alternating between soft, firm and everything in between, trying to figure out what she liked, trying to find what affected her personally.

But he was failing.

For all his efforts, she wasn't writhing, wasn't begging, wasn't the least bit desperate. In fact, her body was rigid, her muscles bunched, fingers, toes and jaw all clenched tightly. That was the moment the real heat of embarrassment started creeping in.

He'd pleasured many women and never had any doubts about his sexual prowess. And Ana had only had one sexual partner, if he understood hers and Kennedy's arrangement properly, so he shouldn't be intimidated by her. But he was. Because though the quantity of sexual partners might be greatly mismatched, the things she had done? She'd probably done things he'd never even heard of. What if what he did was _boring_ to her? She got off on all kinds of kinky shit. Had she ever even had just regular sex before? He'd done some kind of kinky things- some spanking, light bondage, messed around with vibrators and even a cock ring a few times. But nothing like what she did…

 _Thoughts like that aren't helping_ , he scolded himself. _Figure out what the fuck you're doing wrong and figure it out quickly._

He made a last ditch effort with his fingers to find a spot that made her react favorably, and immediately regretted it as he watched a grimace cross her face. The humiliation was starting to boil over inside of him.

"Does that feel okay?" he asked, the heat of mortification on his cheeks at having to ask.

"Yes," she replied quickly, her voice cracking ever so slightly at the end, like she was pained. He cringed, halting his ministrations immediately. With a sigh, he sat up, running his hand through his hair. She opened her eyes and looked at him, her face still stoic but her eyes pleading with him. "What's wrong?"

"Ana," he began hesitantly. "This is…"

"What?" she asked, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment as she brought her hand up to cover her bare breasts defensively.

"You're not enjoying this," he said sadly.

"I am," she rushed to correct him quickly- too quickly.

"But you're not… you're just _lying_ there and you're so **quiet**."

Her cheeks glowed even redder at his words, her eyes shifting down in utter humiliation. She grabbed the blanket, using it to cover herself.

"If you don't want to do this…" he led.

"I-" she said, but didn't get any further than that as her voice cracked with what sounded like impending tears.

"No no," he whispered coming to her side. Fuck! He'd hurt her feelings and embarrassed her. "Please don't cry, baby," he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her.

She buried her face into his chest, where he felt the hot tears slide down his sternum.

Fuck!

It was too soon for this. He fucking knew that. He should never have let anything sexual happen between them tonight. He knew that- earlier he _knew_ that. But all logic had been lost to him once she'd kissed him. Once again, he's let his emotions get the better of him, only this time it was lust instead of anger. He should have stepped back from the situation and realized the implications of doing something like this too soon.

He wanted to tell her, wanted to explain to her that this was all his fault, that he should have never let it get this far, but he couldn't think of a way to word it without it coming out like, 'This was a mistake.' And he didn't want to further damage her feelings or her pride by making her think he thought it was a mistake in that way.

So he opted to comfort her the best way he could think of- he held her tightly against him, combing his fingers through her hair in a soothing manner. Somehow, someway they would get through these rough patches. They were adrift in a sea of a very precarious situation right now, but eventually the waters would calm, and he just knew they'd come out stronger in the end.

He rubbed her back and stroked her hair until she calmed down, and as he felt his own body relax with hers.

"Stay with me tonight, Ana?" he asked.

She didn't answer, only nodded, but that was good enough to allow him to drift off to sleep with her wrapped in his arms.


	19. Chapter 19

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 _ *****TWO CHAPTERS HAVE BEEN UPLOADED TODAY! PLEASE READ CHAPTER 18 BEFORE CHAPTER 19!*****_

 _ **.**_

 _ **.**_

 _ **ANA**_

Once Christian had fallen asleep, she managed to slip out from underneath his heavy arm and from his bed. Quickly she pulled her dress down over her head, grabbing her shoes and underwear. Her intention was to make a quick getaway, but she happened to catch sight of him from the corner of her eye as she fluffed her dress back down over her legs after pulling her underwear into place. His face was illuminated in the moonlight, his features softened so much he, for the first time, really looked his age to her. She was so used to seeing his face etched with deep emotions, whether they be anger, sadness, or concern. But as he slept in his bed, he looked so serene. It made her heart hammer against her chest, but also drive home the conclusion she'd already made this evening- he deserved better than anything she would ever be able to offer him. He deserved so much better than _her_.

She couldn't help but trail her fingers through his soft hair one last time, placing a final kiss to his slightly stubbled cheek. "Goodbye, Christian," she whispered so quietly she barely heard the words. And true to the nature of things, his face scrunched, turning that peace into the look of the troubled man he was when she was concerned. She froze, fearing him waking, but she just reached around blindly, securing the pillow she'd been using in his firm grip before pulling it to him and settling back down into a deeper sleep. She made a silent escape from his bedroom before she could risk waking him again.

She rushed down the hallway, back the way he'd led her earlier, back through the vast, dark great room, making her way around furniture only by the lights of Seattle shining in through the floor to ceiling windows.

She pressed the down key for the elevator, slipping back on her shoes as she waited for the door to open, begging the elevator to not make too much noise and wake Christian. When it finally slid open, accompanied only by a soft, low tone, she stepped quietly into the waiting car, pressing the 'door close' button as soon as she was fully inside.

As the doors slid closed, she let out a shaky breath, leaning back against the wall, her body trembling, mostly from adrenaline, but also from her tortured emotions. She felt disgusted. She felt humiliated. She felt degraded. And she felt like a fool.

Tears prickled in her eyes as the weight of what had happened came crashing down on her. A strangled sob escaped from the back of her throat, and she felt like she was moments away from a total breakdown when the elevator slowly stopped and the doors began to part.

She dashed at her tears and looked up, finding two people looking at her.

She immediately plastered on a fake smile as she made eye contact with the woman. It must have been obvious she was crying since the woman's eyes softened and a small sympathetic smile appeared on her face.

Ana couldn't look at her, couldn't handle the sympathy, so her eyes darted to the man, and her own fake smile wiped away as recognized him.

Christian's bodyguard. Taylor.

It wasn't late, barely past nine, and it was obvious he and this woman had been out on a date as they stood across from her, all dressed up, her hands wrapped around his left bicep as she leaned into his side.

Ana and he locked eyes and she saw his immediate recognition turn questioning as he probably tried to figure out what she was doing crying in the elevator.

She saw his mouth open, but talking to him was the last thing in the world she wanted to do right now. Frantically, she shook her head back and forth, and she watched his look turn to concern. But she just couldn't face him, or any of this, really. So she darted for the gap between the woman and the door, slipping past her and heading for her car without looking back.

She half expected to feel his hand grab onto her, stopping her, or at least hear him call her name, but thankfully neither happened. Once she was in her car, she wasted no time starting it up and getting the hell out of there. The last thing she needed was to give Taylor a chance to tell Christian she was gone and have him be able to catch up with her because she was too stupid to leave the parking garage right away.

So many emotions were coursing through her right now she felt like she could scream. She felt sick to her stomach over what had happened, over the fact that she'd had to make this choice, and over what choice she had actually made. She felt sick for leading Christian on. He was a good man. He didn't deserve that, when all he'd ever tried to do was help her.

But she wasn't his to save. Her problems were too deep for him to change. He was a smart, handsome, kind man and he deserved better than someone as fucked up as she was. He was better off without her. She couldn't, in good conscience, allow him to fuck up his life trying to help her. So when Scott presented her with his plan, as much as she immediately hated it, eventually she realized it was the only option she could take to help herself. School was her only chance to move on with her life. Christian offered her help over and over, but how long would he truly be willing to support her? How long until the novelty of her wore off? And then were would she be? In exactly the same predicament as she was now. The only thing that would ever save her was herself. And to do that, she needed an education so she could support herself in a career independent of Scott. This was her one shot to achieve that. She had to take it. There wasn't another option for her, not if she ever wanted to be free of this life.

But Scott had been wrong about Christian. He'd anticipated one of two things from Christian: him either using her regardless of the situation in order to finally satisfying his sexual attraction to her, or him turning her away for being a unexpectedly disappointing lay. But the reality was, Scott didn't know Christian Grey at all, and he underestimated the goodness of Christian's heart. He hadn't turned her away, or fucked her regardless of her interest level. He'd sensed her discomfort, stopped, and held her while she cried. He'd been sweet and kind. Just like he'd always been.

He cared about her. Christian Grey actually, legitimately _cared_ about her. It was clear as day now that he wanted to be around her, to sleep with her, because he cared about _her_.

And her? she'd been willing to let him fuck her so she could go to school. And then left him after agreeing to stay.

She would never, **never** be good enough for a man like Christian Grey. He didn't deserve all the emotional trouble she brought to his doorstep. He was way better off without her in his life.

She'd never felt so worthless as she did the moment she looked down and saw his embarrassed face looking back up at her. Christian Grey, this handsome, brilliant, generous man wanted her- and she could never be deserving his affections. He needed to find someone worthy of his attention. That was why she made the decision to leave. She'd spent so much time turning her back on his outstretched hand. If there was ever going to be a final nail in the coffin of the possible future for them, her leaving after thoroughly embarrassing him in bed surely had to be it.

But, now, Christian could move on. And she would go back to being Scott's submissive, at least for the next four years while she was in school. Maybe once she graduated and could get a job of her own, she could attempt to find an identity all her own. Until then, it was best to maintain the status quo and be diligent to Scott's needs.

She had been told to call Scott as soon as she left Christian's to inform him of what had happened, but she knew if she called him this early, he would be suspicious of how she could have possibly completed the plan in so little time. Scott expected this relationship to be dissolved based off either her novelty wearing off, or Christian being disappointed in sex with her. Neither of those things were the case, but she didn't think it mattered much as long as things were over. And they _were_ over. So she figured she could get away with lying to him about what had happened, and let him think his plan had gone off without a hitch. So she'd tell him that Christian had fucked her until he'd gotten his fill, and then asked her to leave. She'd tell Scott that he was right, that Christian had realized that she was a novelty, and once he'd finally had her, the spell had been broken and he had no use for her anymore.

In order to pull that off, she had to pretend like she'd spent more time at Christian's place than she did. So she figured she would call Scott in the middle of the night and tell him Christian had kicked her out after fucking her every way imaginable. She would tell him that Christian had told her not to ever contact him again, to only address him professionally at GEH if absolutely necessary, and to please request Scott exempt her from any and all meetings in the future. She would let Scott believe that everything had played out exactly as he'd imagined, and he would comply with Christian's 'wishes' to keep her away from him, which would in turn keep her from ever having to see him face to face and risk blowing this whole thing back open again in the future.

She hoped now that the ties were severed between her and Christian, that Scott would be pleased and give her a break. After last night's punishing overuse of her vagina, she was extremely exhausted and beyond sore. Every part of her body ached from all the strain her muscles had gone through due to all of the orgasm denials, as well as having been secured to one spot on the bed for such a long time. She hoped that since she'd taken her punishment without complaint, as well as ended things with Christian, that Scott would be amicable from here on out. Hopefully she'd done enough to make amends for her transgressions. And now all she wanted to do was take some pain relievers and get some sleep. She still had most of her prescription left from when she'd dislocated her shoulder. She'd stuck to mostly Advil at the time because she hated taking prescription narcotics, but she was in such desperate need to relief right now, she was considering taking the strong stuff instead.

She was pretty much on autopilot as she drove home, only really coming back to herself and her surroundings as she pulled into her parking lot. She glanced to the area Scott always parked, making certain his car wasn't there. He really never stayed at her place when she wasn't there, but he had still been there when she left earlier to go to Escala, so she thought it best to check just to make sure he was gone.

With a heavy, desolate, chest rattling sigh, she trudged to her apartment door, barely making it inside the door before more tears started to well in her eyes. She leaned back against her door, blinking up at the ceiling to clear the tears. With another deep breath she pushed off the door, flicking on the lightswitch, turning to secure the bolt lock when something caught her eye.

The tears returned as she slowly made her way to the center of the room. She sunk to her knees, shakily reaching for the torn piece of paper lying conspicuously on the center of her coffee table.

The realization was like a knife through her already battered heart, her already tortured soul.

Scott was never going to let her go.

 _ **Christian**_

Christian stared unseeing at his computer, knowing he needed to work but also knowing he was getting no work done. He'd replayed last night over and over in his head.

He could still hear the subsiding sobs echoing in his bedroom, her head gently rocking against his chest as she nodded in agreement to his request to stay until the morning just before he'd fallen asleep..

The next thing he knew he was being jolted awake by a knock on his bedroom door. He'd sat up disoriented, feeling like it was deep into the middle of the night. But a glance at the clock let him know it was only 9:20. He'd looked down and saw the bed empty next to him and felt his stomach plummet. Then he heard the knock again, followed by Taylor's head popping inside of the cracked open door.

"Sir?' he'd whispered harshly into the dark room, and Christian cleared his throat, trying to relieve the ache of the lump there, before answering.

"What, Taylor?"

"I…" he hesitated. "I wanted to let you know Gail and I just crossed paths with Miss Steele in the elevator, sir. We were coming back up to grab a sweater for Gail before heading off to a movie, and she was exiting the elevator as we were waiting to get on. She was upset- crying. I thought you might like to be made aware. Sir."

"Thank you, Taylor." Christian said, lying back on the bed as his CPO closed the door. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling completely crushed.

Where had he gone wrong? What else was he supposed to do? If this wasn't a sign that he should give up on Ana, then what was?

He stayed up all night long, the question replaying in his head ad nauseum: _Should I give up?_

He'd tried everything and had been crushed by her again and again. If she wanted his help, wanted _him_ at all, she would have accepted it, or him, already, right?

There was really only one option left.

He had to let her go.

He'd come into GEH this morning unhappy with, but more and more certain of, his decision. He'd tried his best, but maybe she was just beyond saving. Or maybe _he_ didn't have what it took to save her. Maybe she wasn't meant to be _his_ to save. Maybe he wasn't enough of a reason for her to want to leave what she'd always known. Hopefully, someday, a man she deemed worth it would come along and change her mind.

He cringed, then sighed for the millionth time.

God, he was miserable.

He picked up his Mont Blanc and began to absently trace the paper where he'd written her name about an hour ago. Slowly he glided the pen over the neat cursive. _**Ana**_

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear his office door open and only noticed that someone was now in the room with him when he caught movement out of his peripherals.

Christian looked up to see Scott Kennedy in his doorway. He couldn't help the instinctive flick of his eyes behind him, checking to see if Ana was there too. He felt the nervousness roil through his gut at the prospect, but it was squashed as soon as Kennedy opened his mouth.

"She's not here, Mr. Grey," Scott said knowingly. It irked Christian that he had been so obvious, but that was quickly erased by a fission of panic at the implication that he'd been obvious to Kennedy. His interest in Ana had gotten her in trouble before. He didn't want to incite any more 'punishments' for her.

"Is there something I can do for you?" Christian asked him dryly.

"No, your assistant is already getting me a coffee," he responded with a smirk. Fucking smart ass. What had him so cocky all of a sudden? Strolling into the CEO's office unannounced, smirking at the boss. No one smirked at Christian Grey. They pandered to him.

"Did we have a meeting today, Kennedy?" Christian asked, looking away, acting completely disinterested as he pretended to go back to work. He was not in the mood to see anyone, let alone the fucker that was ultimately responsible for every fucked up feeling he'd had lately.

"No, Mr. Grey," he said, deftly unbuttoning his suit jacket as he folded himself into the chair directly in front of Christian's desk.

Just then Andrea knocked on the door, walking in with a steaming hot cup of coffee, carefully handing it off. "Can I get you anything else Mr. Kennedy?" he asked, her tone not quite it's normal professional lilt. It was almost _flirty_. Christian scrutinized his PA and noticed her body language also seemed to suggest that she was attracted to Kennedy. He watched in disgust as she delayed leaving, smiling down at the man she was standing just a tad too close to. He felt his hackles rise at the mere idea of Andrea actually being legitimately interested in Kennedy. Sure, he was an attractive man, but if only she knew how horribly ugly he was inside.

"That will be all Andrea," Christian interjected, startling her out of what seemed to be a little daze. She blushed, nodding quickly before turning on heel and practically scurrying from the room.

Christian watched Kennedy follow her path back to the door, turning to look him in the eye only once she was gone. He knew he was caught checking her out, but he just winked with a grin before taking a tentative sip of his coffee. He nodded his approval of the coffee, raising it up in Christian direction with an impressed nod, before setting it down on the table next to him. Christian watched him adjust his position, crossing one leg over the other, adjusting his suit jacket- all things Christian knew he was doing to try and assert his dominance between the two of them. He was making Christian wait, displaying his confidence, setting the pace, wasting Christian's time, all while sitting in his office uninvited. Christian wasn't oblivious to any of this, but the one thing he wasn't sure of, was why the fuck he was actually _here_ doing it. Finally Kennedy spoke again.

"She's a pretty little thing. A little rigid. I bet she really lets loose once she get out of these doors..." he trailed off, earning him a death glare from Christian. Was he fucking serious?

"Did you come here for something work related, or to try and instigate a sexual harassment lawsuit?" Christian spat.

Kennedy sighed, holding up his hands. "I was just making chit-chat."

 _Chit-chat_. Christian was about to kick him out when he spoke again.

"I wanted to broach the topic of creating a new position within GHI."

"And what position would that be?" Christian asked. _And why are you coming to my office without an appointment to discuss it?_

"I would like to hire an executive assistant."

"You already have a personal assistant," Christian said, trying to quell the obvious peak in interest. Ana was his assistant. So what was this about?

"My current assistant, Anastasia- you remember her, correct?" Kennedy asked, looking Christian dead in the eye.

"Yes. She presented those reports to me recently," he said simply. There was something here, some hidden power play occurring between them. Christian wasn't exactly sure what it was, but he knew better than to show Kennedy any kind of reaction, since that was obviously what he was looking for. Kennedy knew that Christian knew exactly who Ana was. But as far as Christian was aware, Kennedy didn't know that Christian knew all the sordid details of her life. But somehow he got the feeling he knew of more than Christian realized, and that tipped the scales in Kennedy's favor. He had to be careful.

"Right. Well, she's just not handling the increase in volume of work very well. This move to GEH has done amazing things for GHI. But Ana is struggling with the work load."

"Are you planning to relieve her of her position, since she's not handling it properly?" Christian asked. If Kennedy was willing to let Ana out from under his thumb, this could be a huge step in her gaining some independence.

"No. I feel there is more than enough work to justify two positions. Ana often has to stay behind to handle things here while I'm traveling. And since our client base outside of the Pacific Northwest has increased tenfold, I am traveling often. I, and as a result, GHI and by extension GEH, would greatly benefit from having an additional body. I could leave the executive assistance here to run things that are in the wider scope of what Ana handles now, and that will free her up to perform the job she is meant to do- _personally_ assist me."

"Well, executive assistant is a higher title than personal assistant. It comes with higher pay. Your current PA would most likely want to be given that job, and you can in turn higher someone to replace her as your PA."

"Ana will take the job I tell her to take," Kennedy said dismissively.

"If we create the position, it will be available in house first. Anyone would be able to apply for it, including her. And HR will hire who they deem most fit for the position available. I remember the report she put together. It was very thorough and well presented. And with her experience and knowledge of the company, she's likely to be best suited for that position."

He saw Kennedy's jaw tick. "Well, regardless, Mr. Grey. Ana will likely turn down an offer from HR to remain at the position she occupies now. She knows her place. And that is with me."

Christian felt the veiled hostility behind Scott's words. For whatever reason, he felt the urge to probe him rather than divert attention from the topic that was obviously antagonizing him. He wanted him riled, wanted to piss him off. A million emotions had raged in Christian in the last two days, and he was having a hard time holding back the urge for a big cathartic release of them all.

"And where is Miss Steele? It think would be pertinent to hear her opinion on this directly."

" _Miss Steele_ is not at GEH this morning." Kennedy replied, saying her name with venom.

Christian couldn't fully hide the fact that this piece of information grabbed his attention. He knew he'd visibly tensed for a moment. _Why wasn't she at work?_ He tried to cover it by looking away in disinterest and speaking monotonously.

"Is she ill, or is she just working off site? I'd be willing to carve out some time later to speak with you both." Scott shot him a confused look, cocking his head in interest.

"She took a personal day, Mr. Grey. Why are you so defensive of her? And so seemingly eager to see her?" _Because she left me last night. Because she agreed to stay but she left and even though I know I should walk away from her, I can't, and I need to know she's okay…_

Lost in thoughts of her, compounded by misery, Christian missed the way Kennedy's demeanor changed slightly, the way he regarded Christian a little differently all of a sudden. What he couldn't miss was the sudden movement as Scott stood quickly from his chair and pointed an accusatory finger at Christian's face.

"You're in _love_ with her."

Shit.

He watched a sneer form on Kennedy's face.

"She told me you told her to leave! She told me you kicked her out, that you used her and were done with her! That you told her not to approach you at work, not to come to meetings, not to ever speak to you again unless she absolutely had to! But you're fucking in _love_ with her! Which means that little _**bitch**_ lied to me! Again! When I get my hands on her-"

It broke him.

So much had happened. So many pent-up emotions had been and were churning through him and he just snapped. With a grunt, he threw himself from his office chair and around his desk. The first satisfying crack of his fist against Kennedy's face was like a weight lifted off his chest. God he wanted to do that for so long. It had taken Kennedy a moment to react at all, he'd been so completely blindsided by the attack since he'd busy ranting to himself about Ana. But once his brain caught up with his surroundings, he managed to throw a punch of his own, landing it right on Christian's jaw, while he roared, "What the _**fuck**_ , Grey?!"

"How dare you just waltz into _my_ office, spewing all of your bullshit before calling Ana a bitch! How dare you sit there and openly threaten to harm her you sick fuck!"

"Ana is mine! I can say what I want about her because she belongs to _me_!"

"She doesn't belong to anyone. She's a _person_! She's not your **property**!" Christian shouted before taking a punch to his ribs that knocked the breath from his lungs.

"The fuck she isn't! I've owned her for years. Every single fucking part of her. She's an adult. If she wanted to walk away, she could. But she doesn't. Because she has always been completely happy with our arrangement, never even second guessed it until you came along and tried to take her from me!"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Christian spat. Ana was not happy. She was brainwashed.

"Of course I do! I know _everything_ about you two-" he growled as they both scuffled, trying to gain the upperhand.

"I don't give a shit what you _think_ you know."

"I know that she fucked you last night because **I** _told_ her to fuck you," he said with a smug fucking smirk. "I bet you give a shit about that, huh? That she came to your place last night to fuck you because **I** told her to and she always does whatever her _master_ tells her to do." he boomed, catching Christian off guard with a punch to his kidney. "I can threaten to punish her because she is _mine_ to punish as _I_ see fit!"

"You're the one who deserves to be punished. I would happily **pay** for the privilege to kill you with my own two hands! You deserve to rot for what you did to her as a child, for what you've continued to do to her all of these years! She's smart and beautiful and brave and you kept her from realizing her true potential. You stole her innocence and you stole her chance at life. But I can give it back to her! I can give her everything she deserves, including genuine love."

"You're pathetic. _Love._ Ana doesn't want _love_. Do you know all it took for me to get her to agree to fuck you? _School_. She agreed to fuck you in exchange for a college education," He chuckled darkly. "Not that I'm going to let her go. She damn sure doesn't deserve it after the way she's acted, sneaking around behind my back with you. Do you know what she came home to night, after fucking you like she was told? I tore her college application in half and left it for her to find. That's what I can do to her. That is the power I wield. And it's only just the beginning for her."

Christian released a primal scream from deep within his chest as he reared back and charge, spearing Kennedy and slamming him down onto the floor. He climbed on top of him, pinned him down, and wrapped his hands securely around Kennedy's throat. "You think you're a big man taking advantage of a lonely teenager? Huh? Abusing a woman? Psychologically? Physically? Well, let's see how _you_ like being on the other side. Let's see how _you_ like being choked to unconsciousness!" He screamed, securing his large hands tightly around Kennedy's throat and squeezing without mercy. He watched the older man's green eyes bug out as he clawed at Christian's hands. All of his senses focused singularly on Kennedy and his reaction- his face slowly turning darker and darker red, his eyes bugging out, the struggling gurgles escaping his slacked jaw.

"Christian!"

His intense focus was broken when he heard a booming voice yell behind him. His hands eased back a little, allowing just enough room for Kennedy to suck in a breath. "You have to stop. You can't do this, Mr. Grey. You can't kill him. Especially not here in your office."

Christian looked up and saw Taylor looking cautiously down on him, like he was a wild animal.

"He deserves it," Christian gritted out, his grip tightening again.

"Yes," Taylor agreed. "But you'll be arrested."

"My dad is the best criminal lawyer in Washington."

"Even so, you'll spend time in jail."

"So. what," he said through heavy breaths.

"So, Ana needs you." Christian's gaze shot back up to Taylor. "She needs you."

 _Ana_.

Christian's arms went slack as he sat back on his haunches, watching Kennedy twist halfway onto his side as he pulled in deep, painful, gasping breaths that devolved into a fit of coughs.

He stood up and wordlessly started walking toward his office door, but halted and turned heel, striding back over to where Kennedy still laid prostrate on the floor gasping. He yanked him up, slamming his back into the closest wall, pinning him to it with his forearms across Kennedy's chest. "This is your first and last warning. Stay away from Ana," he gritted out before cocking his arm back and landing one final blow to the side of Kennedy's face, watching his body slump to the floor in an awkward heap.

"Take care of that. I'm going to see Ana," he said to Taylor, who shot him a nod and a 'Yes, sir' before going to tend to Kennedy.

The drive to her apartment was a blur of cars and lights and buildings. He debated scenario after scenario in his head of what could happen when he showed up at her place. Best case scenario was that she let him in willingly, right away. Because if she tried to turn him away, he didn't know how he'd get her out of her apartment, and there was no way he could leave her in there. After everything that had happened, after every hate-filled and threatening invective Kennedy had spewed, Christian knew Ana wasn't safe. She could never be left alone with Kennedy again. That chances of his anger causing him to go overboard were too great. He'd choked her to unconsciousness already. Next time, he could kill her.

As Christian made his way to her door, he decided to try calling her phone first, but there was no answer. It just went straight to voicemail. He'd seen her car outside, so he knew she was home. He tried her phone once more as he continued toward her door, and once again it went to voicemail.

He hung up as he reached her apartment, knocking rapidly on the door as soon as he was within reach. He waited, albeit no more than five seconds, before knocking again, more urgently, this time calling for her through the door.

"Ana? Ana! Open the door, please!"

He knocked again, called again, waited, but she didn't come to the door. He felt a wave of panic rush through him. What if Kennedy had been lying? What if he'd already hurt her? The thought made him feel sick, the bile rising in his throat, his anxiety skyrocketing.

He reached for the door knob, expecting to find it locked, but instead, it turned with no resistance. His heart jumped to his throat as he pushed the door open, calling for her again.

"Ana? It's Christian. Your door was unlocked. Are you okay?"

He listened, but heard nothing. His eyes sought out the paper Kennedy had mentioned, the college application torn in two and left for her to see in the middle of the coffee table, but there was nothing there.

"Ana?" he called out again, his concern intensifying as he noted the document was missing. Maybe, hopefully, Kennedy had been lying about his newest way of devastate her life. Maybe he'd just made that up to get a rise out of Christian. But something in him knew that he hadn't lied, and that meant Ana had already discovered the cruel act.

His body sudden snapped into overdrive, and he catapulted himself down the hallway to her bedroom, hoping to find her well. He rushed through her bedroom door, only to find it empty. Her bathroom door was closed, but it looked like a light was coming from underneath the door. He held his breath listening for any sign of movement from the other side, but heard nothing.

He slowly moved further into the room, his voice lacking any strength when he called out to her. "Ana? Are you in there?"

He waited with bated breath, but nothing.

He reached a hesitant hand to the doorknob, twisting and pushing it open.

All of the breath left his body and he slammed down hard, his knees hitting the tile floor with a painful thud.

Lying half on her side next to the tub was Ana. Lying near her were the torn remnants of the neatly filled in University of Washington application. And lying near that was an orangish-brown plastic pill container. Christian took in Ana's appearance- pale and motionless on the floor. He reached for her with trembling hands, finding her skin cold.

"Jesus Christ," he cried out, his voice cracking. "Jesus Christ, Ana. What did you do? Baby what did you do?"

He wrapped his hands around her limp body, pulling her up against his chest as he cradled her carefully.

"Sir, what happened here?" an urgent voice spoke behind him. He looked up in a daze, recognizing the man looming over him. Luke Sawyer. "Sir, what happened?" he asked more urgently, taking in the scene, and making a move for the empty pill bottle lying on the light blue bathroom rug. "Shit!" He spat, whipping around and reaching for Ana. "Have you checked for a pulse?"

Christian squeezed her tighter to him, a strangled sob escaping his throat as he shook his head no.

"Sir let me check her. You need to call an ambulance while I check her, sir." But when Christian made no move to allow Sawyer access, he snapped.

"Mr. Grey! Christian! I need to check her pulse. You need to call 911. Now! Every second matters. Do it! **Now**!"

Christian nodded, releasing his grip and helping Sawyer to lay her gently on the floor. While he did whatever he was doing, Christian took out his phone and dialed 911."

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I need an ambulance, please," he practically whimpered. "My- friend. I think she swallowed a bunch of pills and... overdosed," he managed to choke out.

"Have you checked for a pulse, sir?"

He lowered the phone from his mouth a little, swallowed back the thick lump in the back of his throat, and asked, "Does she have a pulse?"

He noted the look of concentration on Luke's face as he pressed his large index and middle finger to Ana's pale neck. Luke's eyes rose to meet his, dark brown to terrified gray.

"Yes."


	20. Chapter 20

**CHRISTIAN POV**

The ambulance had arrived before they could, and by the time they got into the emergency room at the hospital, Ana was nowhere in sight. Christian burst through the doors like a man on a mission, scouring every place within his line of sight, trying to see where the paramedics had brought her, but he found nothing. Rushing to the receptionist, he was brusque in his approach to get information.

"Where have they brought Anastasia Steele?" he demanded, his hand gripping the ledge of the chest high desk, his knuckles turning white with tension and the effort it was taking to maintain the semblance of control.

"I'm sorry sir-" the petite woman began to speak, but in those three words he'd lost his patience.

"She was brought here by ambulance. Anastasia Steele. I need to know where she is right now."

Her eyes flicked to the screen in front of her before she plastered on a smile. "Sir. I can't give out a patient's information without the consent of the patient."

"Well she can't give consent," he spat, then felt the hollow feeling roil through him at just why that was.

"I see. Are you next of kin for the patient?" she asked, now looking at her monitor as she typed something quickly on the keyboard.

"No, I'm- a friend," he said.

"I see. Well, it's important in these situations that we remember that the patient has a right to privacy. If the patient you are referring to is, in fact, here, we will attempt to notify her next of kin of her condition, and once we do, you can get updates from them until we are given direct permission from her or the family to allow you access as well. Would you happen to have contact information for a spouse, parent, or sibling for the patient?"

"There's no question about whether or not she's here. The paramedics _told_ us they were taking her here. And she's not married, has no siblings, and doesn't speak with her family," Christian informed her, agitated.

"Well, legally, the next of kin are the ones who can make decisions for her in the event that she cannot make them for herself. Unless she has an advanced directive that you are aware of?"

Next of kin? Ana surely wouldn't want her mother contacted, not if she voluntarily left living with her in order to stay with- her step-father! Christian remembered from her background check that she had a step-father who lived not too far from here. He would be the best option to contact. And he had to do something, had to get a hold of someone. He couldn't just sit here and wonder what was happening to her.

"Sawyer!" Christian shouted, startling the receptionist.

"Sir."

"I need the information for Ana's next of kin. She has a stepfather. Get me his number."

"Yes, sir." Christian watched him pull out his phone and dial a number, talking in low tones until he hung up and addressed his boss again. "Sir, Taylor is almost here. He's having Welch forward him Miss Steele's background check."

He waited five minutes that felt like fifty, before Taylor came through the door, uncharacteristically disheveled, missing his suit jacket and tie. He must have really booked it when Sawyer called him. The fleeting thought of where Kennedy was, if Taylor was here, came and went when Christian's feelings about Ana just outweighed his concern about Kennedy in the moment.

"Taylor I need Ana's stepfather's contact information. The hospital needs to contact her next of kin."

"I already contacted Mr. Steele, sir," Taylor said, before turning to address the receptionist. "I will provide you with Mr. Steele's phone number when you are ready, but he's already been informed of his daughter's arrival to your emergency room. He's not local, but he's en route." Taylor grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper from the desk, jotting down some information before handing it to the receptionist.

"Thank you, sir. I will get this to her medical team right away."

Taylor nodded before turning back to Christian, who pulled him aside. The low rumble of the two deep, low voices could be heard by those around them, but not their words.

"You talked to Ray Steele?" Christian asked immediately.

"Yes, sir. Sawyer called me as soon as the paramedics arrived at Miss Steele's apartment. I got ahold of Welch and contacted Mr. Steele immediately. I knew they would need to contact a next of kin and with him being a distance away I thought it pertinent to do it as soon as possible."

"How did he sound? What did he say?" Christian asked, anxiously running his hands through his hair. The truth was, he really had no idea what kind of a relationship Ana had with her estranged stepfather. He was just assuming it was a better one than she had with her mother, but he didn't really know.

"He seemed… overwhelmed, sir. As soon as I asked if he was the father for Anastasia Steele, I could her the sharp breath he took. He sounded emotional, and pained discussing her. I have no doubt he cares for her- worries for her regardless of the current state of their relationship. As soon as he found out she was unwell, he was panicked and rushing to get any and all information so he could get here and to be with her."

"Good," Christian mused. The boded well, at least. "Did he ask about you? Who you were to Ana?"

"I gave him my name, but he was too distracted once I said Ana's name to worry about further details, I suspect. I figured it would be better to delve into specifics face to face."

That was good too. How would he introduce himself to Ana's father? As a friend? Were they even really that? As her boss? That was technically correct, but didn't scratch the surface of their complicated relationship. And wouldn't explain why he was the one to find her in her apartment. But delving deeping would bring up a lot of questions, questions he was sure Ray Steele would be dying to have answered. How much should he reveal about what he knew about Ana's situation? It didn't feel like it was his place to tell Mr. Steele about her relationship with Kennedy. But would Ana? And if she didn't? Would she ever get the help that she needed? And if Christian did it, would she ever forgive him for it? The questions made him feel sick. Hopefully he would know how to cross that bridge when he came to it.

Finally the reality of the situation caught up with him, and Christian snapped his attention to the other looming issue. "And Kennedy?"

He watched Taylor shift his body weight, a small but uncharacteristic sign that he was uncomfortable and about to deliver news that Christian would not be pleased with. "Kennedy's whereabouts are not currently known, sir."

"What do you mean, _not currently known_?" Christian spat through clenched teeth.

"It seems Olivia had heard the scuffle in the office and in addition to notifying me about it, he took it upon herself to call the police," Taylor said. "She meant well, I'm sure, but they showed up right after you left, and that left me little option to handle anything with Kennedy myself."

"And since he is MIA, it's safe to assume they didn't arrest him," Christian stated, rather than asked, since he basically already knew the answer.

"There was really nothing to arrest him for, sir. At the end of the day, he hasn't done anything illegal."

"He fucked a fifteen year old student," Christian seethed.

" _Recently_. He hasn't done anything illegal **recently** , nothing that could get him arrested. Honestly, sir, the police were more concerned about the state of his face, and had offered to bring you in or questioning and possibly pressing assault charges against you."

Christian eyebrows rose in surprise. "He declined. And truthfully, sir, had them eating out of the palm of his hand. His skill for distraction and manipulation is frightening. He was jovial and kind, knowing just how to lead the officers to side with him. He made a point to tell them you were his boss, insinuated that it was your fault, but seamlessly downplayed it as a heat of the moment altercation over a personal matter that just happened to come to a head at work. Since you were the only two in the room, they could only take his word for it for the time being. He knew how to take advantage of the police being there. He knew I wanted to keep him there, but with the police present, I had no choice but to let him walk without a fight. If I'd done otherwise, it would have been easily seen as an attempt to circumvent the law. If I'd pushed for him to stay in front of the officers, it would have been suspicious."

"So he just got to walk free," Christian said, his fists balled up, shoulder raised and tensed with anger.

"I have Renyolds out there actively trying to locate him and Ryan sitting on his house. I don't suspect he's going to flee or anything. Afterall, he hasn't done anything illegal to flee from. But now that all of this has come to light, I'm very sure he suspects we have been and will be watching him. So it may become harder to keep tabs on him now that he's aware it's happening."

"Great," Christian huffed with an eyeroll. Just fucking great.

The next hour and forty minutes or so crawled by. Christian used it to play back every moment he could remember with Ana, from the first time he set eyes on her to their kiss in the car, her admissions about her past, how she cried in his arms while her neck was covered in bruises, to the last time he'd seen her, when she was safely wrapped up in his arms in his bed. The gut wrenchingly painful memories seemed to outweigh the positive, in both quantity and level of severity, but that didn't stop the few truly good ones from filling him up and reminding him why he fought for her over and over. And even though he'd been given false hopes of an enlightening on her part multiple times before, he couldn't help but go all in on hoping this was the final crossroads, and they could finally start her journey of healing together. Once he could finally get an update from the physician, he could set in motion all the step needs to get Ana whatever help she needed, both medically and mentally. He was anticipating some psychiatric evaluations based off the suicide attempt alone, but beyond, that she needed it desperately to help her work through all the abuse she'd suffered at Kennedy's hands. It wasn't going to be an easy road, but he would do anything in his power to help her walk it.

The commotion of a man plowing open the glass door and rushing into the reception are drew Christian from his thoughts. He was a man on a mission, closing the distance between him and the reception desk in just a few long strides. He was confident and severe, his face etched with hard lines, his body tensed.

"My name is Raymond Steele. My daughter, Anastasia was brought here by ambulance a little over two hours ago," he barked gruffly. Christian felt a roil of concern, wondering again about Ana's relationship with her stepfather. He'd had no other option than to notify him, yet, what if Ana didn't speak to him for a reason? This man seemed almost angry. What if he was just as detrimental a piece to Ana's life as everyone else had been?

"Yes, Mr. Steele," the receptionist nodded quickly. "Please take a seat. I will let your daughter's physician know you have arrived. Someone will be out to speak with you shortly."

She turned to her attention to her phone, and Ray's body slumped then staggered back. He dropped his body weight into the closest chair, cradling his head in his hands as he let out a stilted, heavy breath. His hard exterior crumbled, and suddenly he was no more than a man of desperation.

Christian wasn't even aware that he was on his feet until he was standing in front of the man who now looked completely exhausted.

 **RAY POV**

The adrenaline from the drive out to Seattle finally wore off and Ray collapsed into the closest chair while he wait for someone to come speak to him about Annie's… _condition_. He was so frantic on the drive over that his mind didn't even have room to obsess about the what if's. He was simply focused on arriving in Seattle as quickly as possible. He'd just start to feel the spreading tendrils of terror at what news he could possibly hear, when a young man dressed in shirt and tie suddenly towered over him.

He stood quickly, on new adrenaline surging. Time to face the music. "Are you the doctor?" he asked, the nervous sweat breaking out across his forehead.

"No, I'm sorry, I'm not. I'm actually-"

"Raymond Steele?" A voice called from the doorway leading further into the hospital.

"Yes," he called back to the woman in scrubs searching the room. "That's me. I-excused me," he said, addressing the man in front of him. "My daughter," he motioned toward the door, not in any mood to even _fake_ caring about anything other than Annie right now.

He approached the woman, who took him aside and talked to him in very hushed tones.

"You're Anastasia's father?"

"Yes. What happened? Why is she here? Is she okay?" 

"This is going to be hard to hear, but your daughter was brought to us following an attempted suicide."

The sharp intake of breath caught in Ray's throat, his hand clutched at his shirt over his chest, where he felt his heart stop right before it started pounding wildly behind his sternum.

"Is she…?" he trailed off, not knowing what to even ask. Alive? She's said attempted suicide, so yes. But for how long? And in what condition?

"She's expected to make a full recovery physically. She was brought to us by ambulance after a friend found her on the floor of her bathroom with an empty pill bottle. At the time, it wasn't known exactly how many pills she'd ingested, so we did need to pump her stomach. Fortunately it seems she didn't really take enough to risk death or even cause much concern for organ injury, but regardless of how mild, it _was_ an overdose. It brought her heart rate way down, as well as her blood pressure. It was enough to make her lose consciousness, but not enough to end her life. So medically, she should recover very quickly. But mentally? Psychiatrically? Your daughter needs treatment, so this doesn't happen again."

"Yes," he agreed solemnly. Annie needed help. "Can I see her?" It had been so long since he'd even seen her. It made his stomach twist knowing _this_ was how he finally was going to get the chance to lay eyes on her for the first time in so many years.

"Yes. We are in the process of getting her set up in a room right now. If you can please have a seat again, someone should be with you very shortly to bring you there."

Ray ran his rough palms down his cheeks, scrubbing against the barely there stubble as he nodded and turned back toward the seats. She was going to be okay. Physically. And he would do anything and everything in his power to get her the help she needed mentally. It killed him that he had no idea what could have caused this, what would make her think death was her only option. It killed him that he hadn't been a part of her life in so long that he couldn't even entertain any notions about what could have brought this on, because he truly didn't know her at all anymore. He had no idea _how_ to help her, but he would., however possible.

Annie had always been a sweet, happy girl. He fell in love with her the moment he saw her. When Carla left him, the loss of Annie was far greater than the loss of her mother. It devastated him. And when she came to live with him again, despite the circumstances at the time, it was one of the greatest moments of his life. He was finally whole again.

But he'd worried about her the first couple of months. She had always been quiet and shy, but she seemed even more withdrawn now. All the moving around Carla put her through had never allowed her to stay in one place long enough to make real friends in those pivotal early teen years, and he'd been able to see the repercussions of that when she came back to him. The first three or so months, she never hung out with friends, only stayed home, nose always in a book. She was kind, smart, and beautiful. She should have no trouble making friends, and yet, all he saw was her becoming more isolated. It worried him. He begged her to talk to be people, to make friends, so go out and even get into a little trouble for God's sake. But she was always content to just sit around the house.

But then something clicked. Suddenly she started coming out of her shell a bit, She made a few friends, even joined the track team, and Ray felt he could finally relax. Then things really took off, and suddenly she was spending seemingly all of her time out with friends. Always some program after school, some hangout, some _something_ where she would be out for the night. But it was good. It was normal. It was what she needed.

The money needed to raise a teenager was no small sum. And with the terrifying bills associated with a college education looming in the not too distant future, Ray found himself filling the hours with extra jobs at work, trying to make enough to support them both more comfortably, while setting aside savings for when Annie went off to school. He wouldn't be able to pay her full tuition; unfortunately she would need to take out some loans. But he would do the best he could to help. She deserved it. She deserved the best that he could give her, even if he broke his back working for it.

As a result, he didn't see her nearly as much as he wished he could. It was around that time, when he was so busy, that she started to change. It was small changes in her at first. Coming home and going straight to her room without telling him goodnight, for example. Or, where she used to make them dinner, now she rarely did, and even then, she'd take the food into her room to eat. She'd barely glance his way, sometimes for days at a time. He knew he didn't make it easier, being a man of few words himself.

Maybe… maybe if he'd pushed her to talk to him, to interact, things wouldn't have gotten perpetually worse between them, like they did. He was working for her, to provide the brightest future possible for his little girl. But one day he looked up, and she was simply no longer his loving, sweet little daughter. She was… emptier, somehow. More closed off. But eager to avoid an emotional confrontation, something he'd never been good at, he'd chalked it up to teenage moodiness- he'd never claimed to understand the mind of any teenager, let alone that of a teenage girl. But eventually he realized it had exceeded a mere teenage attitude problem.

But by the time he was ready to take steps to fix their relationship, she was gone. She'd graduated high school, and the next thing he knew, she told him she was moving out. He asked about college, and she said she was taking some time off before going. She already had a job lined up and was moving to Seattle. He'd been shocked. He begged her to reconsider, told her about all the money he'd been saving to help her with school, warned her against taking time off. She'd _always_ wanted to go to school, _always_ wanted to study literature and go into publishing. He had **no** idea those plans had changed, and was blindsided that all of this was happening.

But what could he do to stop it? He tried to reason with her, but it just led to an angry screaming match, something that had never happened between then before. He'd told her she was making a huge mistake, and then she'd told him he wasn't even her real father. He'd been so gutted, he couldn't speak, and she'd walked out.

The next day, he came home from work and she, and all of her stuff, was gone. He hadn't seen her since. He'd been a different man ever since that day. A sad, devastated man. He'd tried to call her, but her phone was disconnected. He'd hoped she'd return for the holidays, at least, but she hadn't. He'd then tried to locate her in Seattle, but no searches ever led to an address. He'd actually come to the conclusion that her new location was a lie until he'd gotten the call tonight saying she was, lo and behold, in Seattle.

"Mr. Steele," a voice pulled him from his trip down memory lane. The man from before was standing in front of him again.

"Yes?" Ray asked, now wondering why this man knew his name.

"I know this is a difficult time for you, and I'm sorry we're meeting under these circumstances, but my name is Christian Grey," he said, holding out his hand to shake, which Ray did, out of politeness, maybe habit. 'I'm a friend of Ana's."

"Oh?" Ray asked, at more attention now. Christian Grey? He knew that name, knew this man's face. He was a hot shot in Seattle- a billionaire if Ray correctly remembered the article he'd seen.

"Yes. I'm, uh," he hesitated for a moment, running his hand through his hair. "I'm the one who found your daughter after… In her apartment," he said with a wince.

"Oh," Ray said, his voice low. This man- _Christian Grey_ \- had access to Annie's apartment. He was the one who walked in and found her... What did Christian Grey want with his Annie? "You're a friend of Annie's, you say?" he asked, trying to assess the situation. He obviously had access to Ana's apartment if he got in while she was unconscious in her bathroom. Most friends don't just have open access to someone's apartment. You only allow that to someone close to you, someone you trust. Could he actually be her boyfriend?

"Yes," he said. "I'm also…," he hesitated, and then a flash of panic crossed brightened his eyes before he finished in a rushed breath, "her boss."

In his peripheral vision, Ray took note of the two men, one in a black suit and the other in more disheveled but similar dress clothes, standing off to the side but eyeing he and Mr. Grey covertly. Ray felt his hackles rise along with his suspicions. He didn't know Ana's life, or who was a part of it. But this very important man was paying close attention to Ana, and he was her **boss** , no less. For all he knew, this man was the one who made her so miserable that it drove her to attempt to take her own life. He could be physically or emotionally abusing her.

"Mr. Steele, the staff wouldn't share with me what Ana's condition was, since I'm not family. My employee, Jason Taylor, he's the one who called to inform you about Ana being brought here. I've been awaiting your arrival so I can find out how she is. What did the doctor say?"

Ray observed him for another half minute, noting the nervous way he ran his hands through his hair, the way his eyes seemed to harden at the fact that the staff wouldn't give him any information. He could practically smell the desperation on this man, but what he was desperate about, Ray had no idea. This man, with his two _henchmen_. What if they wanted to harm her? Until he talked to Ana, he wasn't going to give anyone any more ammunition to hurt her any further.

"Mr. Steele?" an elderly woman in a pink jacket drew both of their attentions. "I can take you to your daughter's room now." She looked between the two men, then added. "Two can come into the room at a time, if you approve."

Ray slide his gaze over to meet Christian's who was already staring at him with a sharp intensity.

"Just me," he said gruffy, nodding toward the doorway. "Please lead the way, ma'am."

"Mr. Steele-" Christian called out, his tone that of legitimate shock.

But Ray just kept walking.

He needed to see his daughter. If she wanted to see this Christian Grey, she could tell him that herself when she woke up.

There was someone sitting in her room, a nursing assistant who was introduced to him as Annie's 'sitter', someone who would be in the room with her at all times due to the hospital's suicide protocols. The woman agreed to let him have a few minutes alone with his daughter, and left them in peace.

As he walked into her room and caught sight of her slight little body in the oversized hospital bed, Ray felt sick. She was so still, he looked like she could have been dead. _She_ _ **could**_ _have been dead_ , he thought morbidly. He _could_ be here identifying her body. A lump formed in his throat as the back of his eyes stung with unshed tears. He took in a deep breath, blowing it out, willing the intense pain to subside. He wasn't gone. She was here. And he would help her.

He took a seat on the chair that was pulled up next to the bed, noticing her wrists were tethered to the rails of the beds by soft blue restraints. What the hell? Why was she restrained? He stood back up, leaning over her bed to press the 'call nurse' button that was above her head. He wanted to know why she needed to be tied to her bed. He heard a ding, alerting him that the button had worked, and leaned back again. But as he looked down at her from this vantage point, he noticed something else. There was some discoloration around her neck. He touched it carefully, examining her skin. Bruising. This was definitely bruising.

Multiple things flashed through his head at one. They said she took pills right? Had he misheard? Had she tried to _hang_ herself? That thought was immediate squashed. No, she definitely took pills. And these bruises were nothing like what ones from a rope would do. So what was this brusing from? Could it be a side effect of the suicide attempt? He didn't know how, but- If it wasn't did that mean… Did someone put their _hands_ on her? Around her **neck**? By the time the nurse came in, he was in a full fledged internal panic.

"Your light is on, can I help you?" she asked, ducking her head into the room.

"My daughter… these bruises? On her neck? And the things, the restraints, on her wrists? Why- What-," he said quickly, gesturing to her neck and arms.

The nurse gave him a sympathetic smile. "Are you her father?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Steele, the restraints are part of the protocol for a patient of suicide watch. We don't know Ana's state of mind, so when she wakes up, we need to make sure she's unable to harm herself. After she gets evaluated and treated by one of the hospital's psych physicians, we can discuss removing them. Until then, it's for her safety."

"And the bruising?"

"The bruising is something we have questions about as well, I'm afraid. Your daughter came in with it, so we can only speculate at this point. It appears to be pretty recent, maybe couple of days old at most. It's a little difficult to tell, a little deceiving to the eye since her blood pressure is so low and she looks so pale. In addition to the bruising on her neck, she has marks and bruising on her wrists and thighs. When she wakes, we will ask her about how she got them. We want to make sure she's safe. And if she's not, it might explain why she was felt ending her life was a way out of a bad situation. It's important we get her help, get her proper treatment."

Ray thanked the nurse, then saddled up on the side of Annie's bed, tucking his hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze.

He only realized he'd drifted off when he felt a gentle squeeze on his own hand some time later. His eyes focused and the haze slowly left his brain and he watched the pale, thin fingers squeeze his, then release, only to squeeze again. He lifted his head off the bed, looking up and into wide, scared blue eyes.

"Daddy?"


	21. Chapter 21

**I know. I'm a terrible person. I know. But here it is. I always do try to update in a timely fashion, it doesn't always happen, but I will continue to try harder, I promise.**

 **Ana POV**

She woke up slowly. Her eyes weren't cooperative, and after a couple failed attempted to force them open she gave up. Her brain was muddled and foggy, her body felt heavy. This was the deepest sleep she'd ever tried to come out of. Her throat was sore, her body stiff, her hair tangled and lying uncomfortably on her neck. She went to move it, to gather the long, haphazard strands and pull them back and away, but her hand was stuck. _Both_ of her hands were stuck.

She felt the wash of panic as she recognized that she was bound to something.

 _Scott._

Her mind jumped into overdrive, the fog ebbing as her fight or flight response kicked in. She pulled against the restraints, forcing her eyes to open, and immediately a repetitive and incessant beeping rang out from somewhere at her right. It took only a moment for her to recognize that she was in a hospital room.

Her body relaxed as quickly as it had panicked, confusion taking over instead.

She looked around the light blue room, then back down to her hands, remembering that her wrists were bound. But why? And that was when she noticed she wasn't alone.

There was a person sitting in a chair pulled up to her bedside, his head resting on his arm on her mattress.

 _Was that….? No, it_ _ **couldn't**_ _be._

Her restraints had just enough give to allow her to stretch and grab the hand resting near hers. She squeezing his fingers, her muscles immediately letting her know that she had little strength. She tried to speak, but her throat felt sore and uncooperative, so she squeezed his fingers again. This time, he moved, his head turning so he was facing her direction.

 _Oh my God. It_ _ **was**_ _Ray._

He blinked a couple of times as he began to awaken, and she squeezed his fingers again to encourage him. And it wasn't until his head fully turned up to face her, his eyes landing on hers, that she managed to somehow find her voice.

"Daddy?" she asked, the word coming out as a harsh whisper.

"Annie," he sighed contentedly, a wash of relief replacing the confusion on his face. He got up, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, squeezing her tightly against his chest. She wanted to hug him back, but the damn restraints prevented her from doing so. The frustration of it coupled with the overwhelming emotion she was feeling at seeing Ray for the first time in years brought immediate tears to her eyes. They quickly flowed over, cascading down her cheeks, and all she could do was let them fall as emotion welled and wound tightly in her chest, forcefully coming out of her tender throat in sobs.

"Oh Annie, don't cry," he said, but the emotion in his voice only forced her to cry harder. She'd never seen Ray cry. Ever.

He straightened up, placing a kiss on her forehead, just below her hairline. The action sent her hurdling back in time to all the occasions he'd done the same exact thing. Again she tugged at her arms, and again they didn't budge, and the feeling of being trapped caused her heart rate to spike.

"Ray, I need you to untie me," she said suddenly, a panicky lilt to her voice. "Can you please untie my wrists?"

She saw an uncomfortable look cross his face as he shifted his shoulders. "Annie, I can't. It's a doctor's order. I'm not allowed to."

"Please. Please, I can't- I don't like it. It's making me anxious."

"I'll get the nurse, okay? Maybe she can…" he trailed off as he jumped up and quickly walked out the door.

He came back a minute later, a man in scrubs with a stethoscope around his neck in tow.

"Hi Ana," he spoke kindly, not with the judgement she'd been expecting. "My name is Nate, and I'm going to be your nurse today. How are you feeling?"

"Okay. Sore. Tired," she said, then tugged at her restraints again. "Can you take these off please?"

He gave her a regretful look before saying. "Not just yet, unfortunately. I have to speak with your physician first. We'll have you speak with an in house psychiatrist, and she will reassess whether or not the restraints are necessary. But please know they are in your best interests. We just want to make sure we keep you safe, okay?"

She didn't answer, but she knew the unhappiness was written all over her face, She let him do a quick check on her- take her blood pressure, heart rate, listen to her lungs, asking questions about her pain.

"Is there anything I can do for you before I go call the physician, Ana?"

She tried to muster up a small smile as she shook her head no. Hopefully, being cooperative would expedite this whole thing.

"Ana, do you know why you're here?" Ray asked hesitantly, after the nurse was gone. She looked down, not wanting to address the situation verbally, or really at all, even to herself. "Annie?"

She nodded, finally. Yes, she knew why she was here. She remembered what she had done, the only thing that she felt she could do last night. She remembered the aching desire to stop living this life, remembered the absolute desperation to find a way out, to escape the agony, the fear, the absolutely crushing weight of what her life had become. So she'd done the only thing she could think of to just make all the pain and anger and hurt _end_.

"Why, Annie?" he asked, his voice pleading.

"It was my only way out," she said quietly. Scott would never let her go. And she had nothing else. The realization that death was her only way out had been simultaneously devastating and relieving. She wished she had another option, but she was just relieved she had any option at all to escape it all for good.

She felt Ray's grip on her fingers tighten, not even having realized she was holding his hand again.

"What about me?" The mixture of anger and sadness in his voice was another blow to her already bruised and battered heart. "Why wasn't I an option for you? Why wasn't I an out?"

The truth was, there was a fleeting moment before she swallowed all of the remaining pills in the bottle that she thought of Ray. But how could she show up and expect him to help her, to take care of her, to support her after all of these years? He shouldn't have had to do it all the years he did, all the years he took on another man's daughter for a woman who ended up cheating on him and leaving him. He had done more than his fair share for her in this lifetime. And honestly, while she was in the middle of a breakdown, the very last thing she could handle was tainting the good memories she had with Ray by contacting him only to have him tell her he wasn't interested in seeing her. Ray was one of the good pieces of her life, and if she was going to end everything, she was going to keep her memories of him good and pure. "I didn't want you to be obligated to me again," she said honestly.

" **Obligated**?" he spat the word at her like it was filthy. " _Obligated_ , Anastasia? You are my daughter! You have never, for a single second, not since the moment your mother placed you in my arms, been an obligation to me." She felt his hand on her chin, forcing her face up until she was looking into his dark brown eyes. "I love you."

She heard the whimper leave her lips, felt the wrenching of her heart in her chest. She was wrapped up in his arms an instant later, the frustration of not being able to cling to him the way she wanted to mixing with her joy of being wrapped up in such a safe place again for the first time in so many years.

She felt the bit of moisture from his tears seep through her thin hospital gown and onto her shoulder. "Why did you leave?" his muffled, strained voice asked. "Why did you leave and never come back?"

Oh god. She never expected this reaction from him, and she was unprepared for it. She'd always thought he didn't care. That was the truth Scott wanted her to see, and it was the truth she'd seen for years- that she was an obligation and was doing Ray a favor by ridding herself from his life. But the reality was, she had hurt this man who had selflessly loved her, who she had loved.

It hadn't taken long, back when it all started, for Ana to learn to trust Scott implicitly, to be able to shut her mind off and let him make every single decision without question from her. It really was true and absolute submission on her end. The more she left in his hands, the more he completely took over and consumed her life. It came to the point where she needed him to tell her what to do, what to think, how to feel. And whatever he said, she always accepted it without question.

That was what made it so easy for her to leave Ray, when the time came.

Because Scott said she should, and therefore, she did. No questions asked. He'd sat her down one day and told her his plans- how he was going to start a business, how he wanted her at his side to help. She had asked about what she should tell Ray, but just so she knew, not because she was questioning Scott's decision. And he'd told her things that, at the time, made so much sense to her, because he was the one saying them…

" _Ana, Ray has his own life to live. It was admirable, what he did, taking you in and caring for you when you had no one else. I respect the hell out of him for it, I truly do. But now it's time to repay him for his kindness. Let him go. Let him live the life he put on hold to take care of a child who wasn't his, who he had no real attachment to. He never remarried, never had a child of his own because he was obligated to you. He's young enough to still have a chance at happiness. He did his part for you. He brought you up, fed you, clothed you, until you reached a legal adult age. Don't take advantage of his kindness and ask him to do more than that. Don't ask him to keep feeding you and housing you. What will you do? Ask him for help paying for college? He isn't a wealthy man. You can't bleed him dry for your own selfish gains. Don't continue to make him feel obligated to you. Let him go, Ana. Let him go and let him live. Give him back the life he gave up for you."_

Everything he always said made so much sense. Ray never missed her. Ray didn't need her. Ray was free to be happy now. He was a good man who did a good thing, and now it was time for everyone to move on.

But right now, looking into Ray's eyes, it hit Ana with the force of a Mack truck just how untrue everything was that Scott had said. Ray loved her, missed her. She wouldn't have hurt him by staying, she hurt him by leaving. Of course she hurt him by leaving. He'd raised her. _Chosen_ to raise her. Not **obligated**. He'd made the choice. He was a man of few words, of little outward emotion, but he'd loved her. As a child, she'd _felt_ his love. More than her mother's, more than anyone's. And when she'd come back to live with him, she remember that although it was under difficult circumstances, he was happy to have her. She _knew_ that, then. What made her stop knowing it? Why hadn't she been able to see it anymore? Why had it made so much sense before, and then suddenly seemed so completely stupid to believe those things?

The bile rose in her throat, because she knew the answer.

The man who she had absolutely dedicated the last 6+ years of her life to, had manipulated to her the the fullest degree. He had methodically shaved away the layers of her life that existed before him, until all that was left was a puppet for his desires.

It was the final, unvarnished breakthrough of that realization that had her reaching for the bottle of pills last night. That had her wanting nothing more than to end her miserable shell of a life

Now, in the light of day, in the presence of Ray, it all seems to immature. She felt stupid. She didn't want to die, not really. But she'd have given anything to end the pain she was feel last night, including her life at the time. Last night had felt hopeless. Truly, truly hopeless.

But today, Ray represented hope. Just his presence here was enough to keep her going for now.

She, looked him over, really took him in. Only a few years older than Scott, he wore his age worse, and seemed to have aged faster in the last six years than in the decade before. The look in his eyes was excruciating as he waited for the answer to a question she now realized he probably asked himself often. Why did she leave? Why didn't she contact him?

But what could she say right now? What could she tell him? The truth? The _whole_ truth? How? How could she look him in the eye and tell him the ugly reality of what her life had been? Surely he'd be appalled. She could easily lose him as fast as she'd gotten him back.

She looked at him. Just looked. What should she say? What could she say? The longer it took to answer, the more she saw the light change in his eyes, the pleading, the begging dim, until finally, he cleared his throat and straightened his back, his chin lifting just a tad as he visibly reeled himself back in. His hand slipped from hers, and instantly her fingers twisted back toward his, her wrists once again pulling the restraints to their limits.

"Don't leave me," the plea left her lips in a whimper, the strangled feeling in her chest twisting, keeping her from breathing.

Guilt slammed to the forefront of his expression as his hand sought hers again, gripping tightly. " _Never_ , Annie," he said with such firmness, such sincerity that she immediately felt able to breath again. "I will always be here for you, Annie. I love you. You are the single greatest thing that has ever happened to me in my life, and I have never, and will never, stop loving you, stop worrying about you, stop caring about you. I am **here**. For you. For however you need me. So if you can't tell me certain things now, that's fine. I can wait. I will always wait for you. Just know, that when you're ready, I will be there. And nothing you ever say to me can ever change that. Okay?"

She swallowed past the thickness in her throat, the suffocating ball of emotion that had developed at his words, and nodded, because it was all she could do.

"I'm going to get you help. I'm going to do anything and everything to help you. Whatever happened before, whatever is happening now," he said running his thumb over the bruising around her wrists and giving her a pointed look, "I'm going to fix it."

Again, she nodded. She believed that he believed his words. But deep down, she didn't know if she was fixable.

A knock on the door startled them both, bringing them back to the present.

"Anastasia?" a woman asked, poking her head in the door.

"Yes," Ana confirmed.

"I'm Dr. Fischer. I'm the house psychiatrist, and I'm just here to gather a little information about the events that brought you to us, okay?"

"Yes," Ana said, knowing there was no getting around this. She was going to have to talk to someone- wanted to even. She knew she was in a very poor place mentally, and she wanted to get better. Long term, she knew seeing a psych doctor was something she had to do. But her immediate goal of getting out of these restraints had her willing to do whatever she needed to do right this minute.

"Good morning," the doctor addressed Ray with a smile before turning back to Ana. "Would you like us to be alone for this discussion, Ana? It's completely up to you."

Ana wasn't sure when, if ever, she would build up the mental strength to be forthcoming with Ray about everything that had happened. And she wanted, and he deserved, to know some truths. Maybe if he was just present in the room while she talked to a professional, it would be easier. He could learn the information to understand the situation, but without having a direct one on one conversation about it.

"He can stay," she answered.

The doctor smiled and nodded in acknowledgement, before pulling a chair up to the opposite side of the bed of Ray. She crossed one leg over the other, folded her hands casually in her lap and began to talk. No notebook, no recording, just ready for a deceptively casual discussion about topics that had obliterated Ana's entire frame of mind.

"We're going to keep this pretty basic for right now. I'm just trying to gauge your current state of mind, get to know a little bit about you and what brought you here, okay? I want you to learn to trust me, and once we've built that up, we can delve a little deeper into the tough stuff."

"Okay," Ana nodded, wanting to sit up a little straighter but once again hindered by her immobilized arms.

The doctor must have seen her awkward shift, because she leaned forward, immediately releasing her left wrist from its restraint. "We can pop these off while I'm in here, and after we talk, I will reassess if they are needed anymore. Sound good?"

"Yes, thank you so much," Ana said gratefully, beyond thrilled to have her arms back.

"So, tell me a little bit about last night. What do you remember?"

Ana pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them tightly. "I remember everything. I came home to some devastating news that was kind of… a final nail in the coffin on a downward spiral of a situation I've been stuck in for a while now. At the time it felt completely hopeless. I felt like anything would be better than saying in the situation I was in, so I made a very quick decision to put a stop to it the only way I knew how."

"I see. And what was your solution?"

She hesitated, then said, "Pills. I'd dislocated my shoulder a couple months ago. They gave me pills for the pain, but I hadn't taken all of them. I took what was left of them all at once. Laid on my bathroom floor and cried. Drifted off, I guess."

"And why did you not see another way out of this situation? Why did you feel you couldn't ask for help from friends or family? Or even just from yourself? Why did you feel like the situation was hopeless, like you said?"

"Because I don't have friends or family. Ray-" she said, gesturing to where he sat but not looking at him, "and I are just now seeing each other for the first time in years because of this. I had no one to go to for help. And I knew..." she said, but stopped.

"Knew what?" Dr. Fischer pressed.

"Knew _he_ would never let me leave, anyway."

" **He** ," Dr. Fischer acknowledged. "So you have _someone_ in your life."

"He _is_ my life. He controls everything I have, everything I am."

"I see. He's your… boyfriend?" she asked, leading.

Ana felt her mouth go dry, like someone had shoved cotton inside of it. "He's my boss."

"Is his name Christian Grey?" the doctor asked, her eyes serious and penetrating.

"No," Ana said, the confusion at Christian's name being thrown into the conversation evident. "No, no. Mr. Grey isn't… I mean, he _is_ my boss, but not directly. He's not the one I'm-"

"Okay. I only ask because Mr. Grey has been in the waiting room since last night asking about you. He refuses to leave until he knows you're okay. He was the one who brought you here last night. So you can understand our concern, that he may be the one who drove you to hurt yourself, and why we would need to be made aware of that."

"Yes, I understand. But no, Christian did nothing wrong… He found me?" she said, distracted by this piece of information. She hadn't really thought about how she'd been found until now. How had Christian accessed her home, her bathroom, to find her? And why?

The why's paled in comparison to the realization, though, that however he managed it, he managed it, and if he hadn't… Would she be here? If he'd showed up later, or not at all? Would she have been dead?

The idea sent a shiver down her spine.

She hated herself for being so weak. She hated that she'd directly allowed another person to sway her very desire to continue to exist in this world. She wasn't a religious person, was fairly certain she didn't believe in a god. So choosing to end her life had nothing to do with going to a better place filled with rainbows and flowers and the souls of passed relatives. She'd gone into it knowing this was the end of everything for her. And still, she'd done it.

"Anastasia?" the doctor asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Yes?' she replied, tilting her face up to give her her full attention once again.

"What are you thinking about right now?"

Ana cleared her throat, sitting up a little straighter. "Just about everything that happened. Wondering how close I came to death. Wondering why I **let** my life get so hopeless that I felt death was the only option for me."

"That's good. It's good that you're questioning things. It bodes well for your future therapy sessions," the doctor said with a smile. "Your questions about your physical health are best left to your medical doctor, who I am certain will be in shortly to discuss the details with you." She stood, smoothing down her shirt. "I'm going put in an order for the restraints to be removed, but I will need to have someone come sit in your room with you for the duration of the mandatory suicide protocol, about twenty-four more hours. I will be meeting with you once a day while you are still here in the hospital, and after that, we will set up a plan for you for follow-up psychological care. Does that sound good?"

"Yes, ma'am," Ana said with a nod, not thrilled about some stranger coming to sit in her room, but knowing the alternative of being tied to the bed was much, much worse.

 **CPOV**

" _Ana…" he whispered, leaning down to pick up her lifeless body off the dirty floor. "Please, no. Not again. Please…"_

 _He looked around spotting the familiar stained little blanket with the cartoon airplanes on it, draping it carefully over her cold body._

" _Please don't make me go through this again," he mumbled._

He woke up with a gasp, the nightmare of Ana mixing with memories of his past that he'd long since dealt and made peace with. Until now, apparently, when finding Ana on the floor caused his psyche to go hurdling back in time to thoughts of his birth mother.

He glanced at his watch, realizing he must have only dozed off for a few minutes. Apparently just long enough to have a nightmare that reignited his anxieties.

How long had he been sitting in this same chair? The seconds had bled into minutes had bled into hours long ago, and he was completely unaware of exactly how long they'd been sitting here, waiting, hoping for the chance to hear something, see someone, who would update him on Ana. He would take an illegal, HIPAA breaking slip of the tongue from a staff member at this point- anything, just as long as he knew she was okay. He asked everyone who passed by him, but no one would tell him anything. He'd gotten loud exactly once, and when they'd threatened to remove him from hospital grounds, he'd quickly shut up. There was no way he was leaving here, not without confirmation that she was okay.

His head was buried in his hands, the sting and burn of his exhausted eyes painful. Taylor, who had been standing guard at the door for so long was now slumped into a chair next to him, and Christian didn't even care. Taylor deserved the sleep.

Rubbing his hands over the back of his stiff neck,he let out a stilted sigh. He leaned back to crack his aching back and was startled to see someone standing in front of him. Holy shit, it was Ray Steele.

He jumped to his feet, his legs feelings foreign on his body from holding the sitting position for so long.

He felt the stream of words dying to be spoke gathering at the back of his throat, but he stopped himself from saying anything. He'd wait for Ray to speak first, the ball was in his court. He couldn't risk doing or saying anything to offend the man who knew every intimate detail about what Christian has been obsessing over for hours.

The older man stared at him with unyielding eyes, and Christian was sure his normally stoic facial expression was long gone, replaced by the exhausting and overwhelming concern. He didn't care to even attempt to mask his desperation for information.

The two eyed each other for what felt like an eternity, and then Ray held out his hand. "Ray Steele," he introduced, his voice edged with the exhaustion Christian was feeling.

"Christian Grey," he replied, shaking his hand firmly.

"I am out here on behalf of Ana. She knows you're here and waiting to see her. She has agreed to allow you to speak with her."

"She's okay?" Christian asked, a rush of air leaving his lungs so quickly, it left him breathless he had to sit down.

"She's going to make a full physical recovery from the incident, yes," Ray confirmed. "May I sit?" he asked, motion to the open seat to Christian's left.

"Of course."

"Annie has agreed to allow me to fill you in a little bit. She's in with the medical doctor right now. As soon as he's done you can go see her." Christian nodded.

Ray went on to explain the minimal complications that had risen from the pills she'd ingested, how they'd pumped her stomach as a precaution, but how she hadn't really ingested enough to cause her any serious or permanent harm. No dramatics- no heart stopping on the table and someone yelling CLEAR while they shocked the life back into her. Physically she'd make a full recovery, and mentally she was more than willing to be cooperative with the psychologist here, and one as an outpatient, until she was healthy in all aspects of her life again.

"If Annie wants to tell you about what led her to this point, what pushed her to such drastic measures, that's up to her. I won't divulge those details- I honestly know barely anything myself. But I just wanted to fill you in on her physical health since you've waited so patiently all this time. And I'm sorry about last night. I just couldn't take the chance of being open with you about anything, in case you were the one that drove her to this. I'm sure you understand."

And he did. It had driven him near the brink of insanity not knowing, left to wonder. But he did understand. Afterall, his top concerned was Ana's safety as well. And for all _he_ knew, **Ray** wasn't trustworthy in her life. That had only added to his fear last night. If she had abandoned her father all those years ago, maybe it was because he was a detrimental part of her past, and the hospital automatically putting that potential person in the driver's seat of her medical care had been frankly terrifying from Christian's point of view. He just wanted her safe. Above anything else right now, he needed to know she was safe at any cost.

After wrapping up the conversation, Ray led Christian to Ana's room. He knocked soundly on the partially ajar door twice before just walking in.

"Annie, honey, I have Christian Grey here to see you."

Christian stepped into the room, his eyes darting to a young woman sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, a small table pulled up in front of her, a book resting open on its surface.

"That's Annie's _sitter_ ," Ray said in a low voice. "Protocol. So she doesn't have to be restrained anymore."

Christian felt a wave of dread flood over him at the thought of her being restrained. The thought was fleeting though, once he turned his full attention to Ana, who was sitting up in her bed looking at him hesitantly, like she wasn't sure how he was going to react. He sent her a small smile, trying to assure her, and it seemed to work, as he watched her tense shoulders relax a little.

"I'm going to head down to the cafeteria and grab something to eat, give you two some time to talk. I'll be back up in, say a half hour?"

Ana shot her dad a smile in thanks, and Ray turned on his heel and left the room. It was just Christian and Ana now.

...And her sitter.

Fuck.

He was really hoping to talk to her alone. He was sure this woman was bound by some hospital oath to be discreet and not discuss private conversations, but still. The things he wanted to discuss with Ana were very sensitive, and he didn't want to make her uncomfortable by bringing them up in front of a stranger.

Christian eyed the other woman, who was focused on her book but within earshot no matter how low he talked.

"Ray and the doctors all told me you've been here all night," Ana said.

Any and all attention to the sitter was immediately lost the moment he heard her voice.

"I have been. I've been so worried. No one would tell me anything," he said, closing the distance between them.

"I'm sorry. I know that must have driven you crazy."

It did. But it didn't matter anymore. He was here now, with her, and she was okay, and that was all that mattered.

"I'm just relieved to see you're okay. You have no idea-" he stopped, the swift and overwhelming emotion filling his chest to bursting keeping him from finishing his sentence out loud. The mental image of her on that bathroom floor had been haunting him for hours upon hours now. To replace it with this vision of her sitting wide awake, talking to him was an immense relief.

She bit her lip, peering up at him uncertainly. "They said… you found me." Her voice was small, and it made his throat ache to have to talk about this.

"I did," he cleared his throat, looked to the ceiling, ran a hand through his hair, trying to quell the weight, the tightness he was feeling in every part of him from the chest up. "I came to check on you. **He** came to see me in my office. He said things that made me worry about your state of mind. But honest to God, I just thought you'd be upset- I never anticipated finding you how I did."

There was a long pause, neither were looking at each other, Christian's eyes still on the ceiling, Ana's on her lap.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I put you through that."

"It's not your fault, Ana. This is on him- all of it. He's manipulated you so much over the years, twisted your entire life around his little finger so tightly so he could do whatever he wanted, however he wanted, whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted to you. I just want you to be happy. I want you out from underneath his thumb and I want you to see him for who he is. I so badly want you to realize **what** he is."

"He doesn't care about me," she said, her voice soft but the sincerity palpable.

"No, he doesn't. But other people do. _I_ **do** ," he said imploring her to believe him.

Her glittering blue eyes swept up to catch his. "You don't even know me."

He winced. He knew he did. It hurt, even if he didn't want it do. He'd _tried_ to know her. And honestly, believed he was the person in the world who did more than anyone at this point. He had gotten truths from her no one else did, had been on the receiving end of thoughts and emotions that no one else had gotten from her since before Kennedy ever factored into her life. He'd tried, to the best of his ability, to be there for her without scaring her away. He'd tried to do the balancing act on a tightrope with a hundred pound weight in each hand, and here he was, responding to his attempt to reinforce how he cared about her with a viscerally slaying 'You don't even know me.'

He took a deep breath, trying to clear out the ache of disappointment from his chest. He thought they'd come so far, but maybe he was wrong..

"I want the chance to get to know you better. I want you to give me the chance to help."

"Mr. Grey," she said, and he could already hear the blood whirring in his ears. The formality already told him everything he needed to hear. It was essentially like she was holding up a scalpel, preparing to cleanly slice away any connection he held to her. "I appreciate everything you've done. Your supportiveness has helped me think outside of the tiny box I've been stuck in for years. If it wasn't for you, I would still be exactly where I'd always been, exactly where he wanted me to be. But I can't continue to burden your life with mine. That's not fair to you. I've _been_ unfair to you. I may be able to see him for what he is now, but I am miles away from being a mentally healthy person. I can't lay all of that on you. I won't."

He took a step closer, but stopped, his hand clenched into tight fists at his side as he resisted the urge to sit on her bed, to weave his fingers in her hair and rub his thumb over the soft skin of her cheek.

"Don't you understand, Ana," he asked, his voice thick, almost froggy as he swallowed. "What you mean to me? Don't you understand that you could slice my throat open, and until my last breath, my biggest worry would be that you might nick your finger on the blade?"

"I don't deserve that level of commitment from you. I haven't earned that place in your life. I can't be your focus during your last breath, when I didn't even want my own a day ago." She looked at him, her eyes bleeding the depths of her honesty. "I'm not strong enough to be the center of another man's world right now."

He wanted to throw himself on his knees and beg for her to let him in. Inside he was kicking and screaming and throwing a temper tantrum fit for the world's most spoiled two year old. But outside, he remained still, impassive as he looked down on her slight, pale body nestled in the bed. She was finally free from Kennedy, free to make her own decisions. And she wasn't giving off any signs of uncertainty, any signs of anything but complete sincerity for the decision she'd apparently made.

And he was at a total loss of how to fight that.

"I don't want to lose you," he admitted sadly.

"I know you care about me, Christian. I think I care about you, too. But I don't really know what I feel, or even... how to feel it properly, I guess. I have no experience with real relationships. All I know is how to put a man's happiness before my own, and that's not healthy. I don't want to be that person anymore. I don't even feel like I _have_ an identity, right now. I just feel like an extension of _him_. I think that if I attempt a relationship with you right now, I will fail miserably, and I don't want to put either of us through that just because I tried to do too much too soon. You've done so much to help me. You deserve better than what I can give you right now."

He sat down on the edge of her bed, cupping her cheek in his palm. "All I expect, all I want is just _you_ , Ana. However I can have you."

"I just want to get myself right first. I need to figure out who I am now. The last time I was able to make my own decisions, I was fifteen. I'm an adult now, and I need to learn how to live life and be independent. I need to grow. Maybe go to school, like I always dreamed of. I don't know. But I do need to figure it out for myself."

"So I guess offering to pay for a new apartment, a new car, and school, or offering you new employment isn't something that appeals to you? Because I can do all of those things for you, Ana. I'd happily do them in a heartbeat."

She gave him a sympathetic smile while she shook her head no.

"So where will you go?"

"To Montesano, with Ray. He wants me to come home. He wants us to rebuild our relationship, and help give me the direction he should have been allowed to give me as my father all those years ago."

"That's nice of him. I glad you have him," Christian said, caressing her cheek with his thumb. "Can we still talk? Can I email you? Maybe even visit once in awhile?"

"Yes. I'd like that," she said, removing his hand from her cheek and lowering it to her lap where she squeezed his fingers tightly with her own.

"I'm going to miss you," he said with a heavy sigh.

"I'm going to miss you too."


	22. Chapter 22

Scott POV

The wait was terrible. He was an impatient man, used to getting what he wanted. And he would, again, have what he wanted. What he coveted most. Ana. He needed to find a way to get to her, and soon. He wished he could wait, wished he could bide his time until things calmed down, but the longer he waited, the greater the chance that someone else got into her head and started fucking with the thought processes he'd spent years carefully cultivating in her. He still had no idea how she ended up in the hospital. He'd tried to find out, calling the hospital hoping for the one idiot employee that would divulge too much information about her. But nothing. It was driving him mad. He'd attempted to see her, physically gone to the hospital, but without her patient code they wouldn't even tell him what room she was in.

When Ana hadn't shown up for work in morning after he'd sent her to Grey's, the morning he'd gotten in the altercation in Grey's office, he'd assumed it was just due to the long night she'd had. She'd likely been at Grey's late, then came home to discover the torn up college application and it had probably caused a lot of heavy emotions for her. She was probably just exhausted and needed the morning to recuperate. He was pissed that she just didn't show up, no call, no note. But he was willing to let it slide for a couple of hours and just add it to the list of infractions she would be punished for already. He had bigger things to worry about at that moment. Namely, he wanted to meet with Grey, feel out how the situation went last night from his perspective, make sure everything was kosher on that end. And he preferred to do that without Ana present anyway.

The fight with Grey has distracted him, and although Ana's presence was obviously missing, he also had a seemingly endless list of other things to focus on, like, for example, the pain radiating from various spots all over his body, and more importantly, the implications of Grey being in love with his submissive. It wasn't until late in the day, when he received a computer generated note from the hospital for her work file, that he became aware that Ana was at Seattle Grace. He'd immediately typed the physician's name into Google, hoping for some kind of clue as to what she was being treated for, but he was met with a generic title at the hospital, a house doctor. It was a dead end.

But the next day, he arrived at work to a second note. The one extended her leave of absence and had been forwarded by a different physician. A psychiatrist. Whatever had happened to her was more than just physical, it seemed. If she was seeing a psych doctor, he could only guess that she'd had an actual breakdown. He was kicking himself now for letting her find her torn up college application alone. He should have been nearby to make sure something like this didn't happen. Psychiatric care could only spell disaster for him and his chances of returning things to the way they'd always been between them.

Every time he thought about it, he was still hit with waves of shock that things had fallen apart at the rate they had. If he could go back and do it all over again, he'd never sign with Grey Enterprise Holdings. He's had other offers from other companies, so he still could have made lots of money somewhere else. But no, he'd wanted to best, and GEH was the uncontested best. But the cost of losing Ana, of losing her submission, of losing his precious control over her life, was a too large. He was floundering now, without her, without the sex, without his little play toy to dance around on her strings. He needed things to be back to the way they were before.

Ideally, he didn't want to make any moves right now. The best course of action would be to lay low and use that time to really think of a plan that he could then execute with precision. There was too much going on right now, and with Grey waiting in the wings for him to mess up, he had to be careful. No one had anything on him, nothing tangible to use against him legally. He needed to make sure that was how things stayed. Plus, if Grey had people watching him before, he was surely going to be having people watching him now. He needed to be hypervigilant of that. So initially, that had been his plan. Let some time pass before making any moves.

But Ana being in contact with psych doctors was a game changer. He'd thought all he needed to do was find a way back in Ana's mind. If all he was worried about was reprogramming her and reforming that connection in their relationship, he could have afforded a few weeks or even months to let things die down before making that move. In the meantime, he figured he'd have her close, right there at work. He still owned her place, her car, still had that total control over her life. He had enough patience to ease her mind back into that role again, especially when he had everything in her life to use as leverage against her. But if she was being seen by someone, if she told a psychiatrist about their relationship, they could try and make her see the realities that he'd meticulously groomed her not to see.

"Fuck!" he seethed, picking up the nearest thing to him, which just so happened to be a lamp, and threw it at his living room wall.

Losing Ana was not an option. It just wasn't. He's spent all that time, all those years cultivating their relationship. It was perfect… He groaned, thinking about their time together. She was perfect. Everything about her from day one had been perfect. She was in the ideal mindframe at the beginning of all of this, the ideal candidate for a plan he'd never even knew he desired to actually pull off. _Until her._

And goddamn if she hadn't been better than anything he could have dreamed. She'd done everything he ever asked of her with very little question. She'd enjoyed how he manipulated her body, enjoyed the downright obscene things he said and did to her. He didn't want things to change. Not anytime soon. Things were too perfect with her. They were in their prime. Her working for him afforded him so many opportunities he'd never even thought of when he took her on as his assistant. Initially it had been a way to keep her close to him and simultaneously away from her step-dad. But it had morphed into the ideal situation where she knew him so intimately that it made her the perfect PA. She anticipated all of his needs, knew what he needed, when, where, and how. And when he had a shitty day, she knew it and was prepared to relieve that tension after hours. The groove they'd gotten into these past years had been flawless.

Until GEH. Until Christian Grey.

Scott wanted to squeeze the life out of him. If there was a way to get away with murdering one of the most prominent people in the country who was always surrounded by security, Scott would do it in a heartbeat.

Christian Grey had fucked up everything. Scott knew that Ana was an attractive woman. He knew men looked at her, but she really never gave any of them a second glance. She seemed widely oblivious whenever someone was flirting with her, and dismissed people who asked her out without a second thought. While he wasn't a particularly jealous man, he was a possessive one, especially when it came to Ana, and for a litany of reasons. It was a culmination of the time he'd spent on her, of the fear he felt of her every branching out and leaving him, of her being young and possibly someday swayed by someone willing to come in and offer her romance and a real relationship. He'd handled men-boys- hitting on her worse in the early years. But as time went on and she proved over and over she'd been perfectly content with him and had no interest in anyone else, he'd learned to let those possessive feelings relax a little.

But that day when she first met Grey- his hackles rose even now thinking about it. It was different. _She_ was different. Whereas she'd always been indifferent to attention from other men, she'd been clearly affected by Grey the moment she'd laid eyes on him. The way he looked at her, like she was some ethereal, heavensent being. Scott had watched him take her hand in his, holding it for way longer than necessary as his eyes stayed glued to her. He felt the wash of pride that he owned this little beauty who even the great Christian Grey admired, and waited for Ana to dismiss him the same as she always did.

But she didn't. In fact, she seemed just as taken, her eyes sweeping his features. He watched her lips part as an almost imperceptible breath left her lips, a tick of hers, one of which he was keenly aware, one that hinted at arousal. Whether either of them knew it or not, their bodies slowly shifted toward each other, wavering a touch closer, as if there was some pull between them. And it was in that moment, when he watched the light dusting of pink adorn Ana's cheeks, followed quickly by gentle nip of her bottom lip between her teeth, that Scott knew exactly what was happening right before his eyes.

The unbridled fury that raged in his veins had him ready to snap, and it must have been some divine intervention that kept him from punching Grey in the mouth before taking Ana over his knee right then and there. How fucking _dare_ she disrespect him like this, right in front of him, with a man that would be her boss, would be _his_ boss.

And Ana knew the moment he'd told her to sit down that she'd made an egregious error. He was sure she knew she would be punished severely for this, but she had no one to blame but herself for incurring his ire. And boy, had he punished her. To her credit, she took it all without complaint, without safewording. He'd flogged her, spanked her, caned her, then fucked her raw for over an hour. She'd been a red, welted, shaky mess by the time he'd finally allowed himself to finish on her face, leaving her there without her own sexual release. She wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon who she belonged to, who was actually deserving of her admiration and attention.

God, how he wished she'd learned her lesson that day. But it soon became apparent that she hadn't. She still thought about, still pined for Grey, and it hit Scott in a piece of him that didn't often take hits- his ego. He was a wealthy, intelligent, charming, handsome man. Women fawned over him left and right, and as much as he loved to have his ego stroked by their dreamy-eyed looks as they pressed their breasts out in his direction, hoping for a sliver of his attentions, he loved even more the idea of leaving them disappointed, leaving them lusting after him. He loved the admiration, but no one, _no one_ admired him like Ana did. And on top of earning a place in his life by being loyal, she allowed him to truly be himself with her. He had little desire to just fall into the beds of random women, no matter how beautiful. What he wanted was to truss them up like a Thanksgiving turkey and fuck them six ways from Sunday without so much as a peep from their pretty little mouths. Ana gave him that. And she'd earned his loyalty by giving him hers.

But her sudden attention to Grey was something he took much worse. He'd have been furious if she'd shown any other man attention, but Grey was… **Grey.** Christian _fucking_ Grey. He was everything Scott was, but more. Scott was wealthy, but Grey was a billionaire. Scott was intelligent, but Grey was like a boy wonder. Scott was charming, but Grey exuded charisma. And Scott was a very attractive man, but Grey was literally voted as one of the most attractive people in the country by various asinine magazines and internet sources. He had the face and body of a top tier model, all while still having one more thing Scott would never have again- youth. The fact that this man caught Ana's attention shouldn't have been surprising. If someone was going to, it made sense that it would be someone like him, someone wanted by probably every woman in the world. But at the end of the day, Scott gave two shits about the fact that Grey was at least deserving of the attention, that Ana hadn't just fallen for a nobody. He didn't want Grey around her. Ever. He knew he'd had to nip it in the bud before either of them could get the idea to pursue the other in any way, shape, or form.

He'd punished her harder in those weeks that he ever had before. He'd been angrier at her that he'd ever been before. He even punished her for things that weren't actually her fault- for the flowers Grey sent her and his trips to come and see her. Grey pursuing her was a direct result of the attention she'd given him that very first meeting. He wanted her to be ashamed for ever having given him a second glance that day. And he'd thought it had worked. He really had thought the punishments had done the job of putting her back in her place. Until he discovered the truth that day in her apartment.

He realized now, looking back, that he had been his own worst enemy in the whole thing. He had let emotions control him, had let his rage and his possessiveness fuel his actions. And instead of bringing Ana to heel and exorcising Grey from her life himself, he ended up adding fuel to the fire of the situation and it all had exploded spectacularly in his face. He should have just removed Ana from her position at GHI. He really relied on her work as his PA, but he could train another PA. What he'd needed more than anything was to keep her close to him on a personal level. He should have laid her off, then kept her at home where she was sequestered away from anyone who could influence her outside of him. She probably would have fought back on him a little, but she would have gotten over it, and in the end, he would have had her right there, where he needed her.

So now he just needed to figure out what to do to get to her, and to get her back. He needed to get her alone again, to himself, for an extended period of time. Somewhere out of her comfort zone, where the only thing comforting to her would be him, and then he could start working on reshaping her mind again, back from all these changes she'd had recently, back to the way things were before.

And then, like a miracle had been bestowed on him from above, he heard the ping of his email. It was Ana. Quickly, he opened it, reading the contents as quickly as his brain would allow.

* * *

To: Scott Kennedy

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Missed Work Days

Mr. Kennedy

I apologize that this is the first time I have been able to get a hold of your regarding my absence from work, though I did approve for the hospital to provide you with a note at least letting you know I was hospitalized. I just wanted to reach out to you personally, and inform you that the physician has let me know I am to remain here for two more full days, after today. Upon my return to work, I will provide you with an addition slip from the hospital with all dates of the stay listed, for HR purposes. Thank you for your understanding.

Anastasia Steele

* * *

The email was disappointing to say the least. Strictly professional. That didn't bode well for him at all. He stewed about it's contents for a while, reading it over and over, until his phone pinged with another email. But this one from his personal account, not his work account.

* * *

To: Scott Kennedy

From: Ana Steele

Subject: Sir

Sir,

I am so deeply sorry about my lack of communication with you. I wasn't allowed access to any of my things for the first while I was stuck in this godforsaken place. I am desperate to get out of here, but the doctor's won't allow me to leave.

I must apologize to you, sir, because it was a broken rule that landed me here. I know I have greatly disappointed you over and over these past weeks and months, and I am devastated to think of what I have put you through. But starting this moment, I promise you honesty. I was so distraught over the situation with Mr. Grey, with allowing another man to touch my body the way that I have only ever allowed you to do, that I went home and drank an excessive amount of alcohol. I drank so much that I ended up violently ill. I guess I somehow managed to call 911 and have an ambulance come for me, because the next thing I knew I woke up in the hospital alone, restrained to the bed. I guess in my drunken state, I said things to the nurses that I do not recall, things about being depressed, and they thought I needed psychiatric help. It is under the psych doctor's orders that I am being held her for a mandatory amount of time while they continue to assess my state of mind.

But I just want you to be aware that I have said nothing about us, and that I never would. I want to make up my behavior to you, however you see fit, sir. Please accept my deepest apologies. I will be returning home in the early afternoon three days from today. And I will await instructions from you of how to make this up to you.

Ana

* * *

The email caused his mood to soar. She was coming back to him. She wanted to repent. She was willing to do whatever he asked of her to prove to him that she was sorry. It was better than he ever could have imagined. He sent her back a clipped email telling her to call a cab to bring her home, stating he didn't have time to pick her up because he'd been dealing with the hellish officework he'd been forced to incur in her absence, and that he expected her to email him when she got home and be waiting in her apartment for him on her knees.

Then, the plan just fell into place. He would do what he should have done with her the first time around. He would remove her from her position at GHI and isolate her. Move her somewhere else. Somewhere new. An apartment without added amenities and luxuries. Somewhere basic, in a plain neighborhood, away from the trendy places and good restaurants. He felt himself get excited as the plan started to unfurl in his mind. He'd sell her car. Sell her stuff. He'd tell her they were all gifts bestowed upon her for being so devoted to him all these years, and that now she no longer deserved them. But taking away everything was really about taking her out of her element. She'd have to get used to a new home with nothing familiar, nothing comforting. He'd get rid of all of the nice things- the jewelry, the designer clothes, the makeup, the salon visits. He'd replace everything with generic furniture, drab colors, plain clothes. Nothing too stimulating. Nothing exciting. He'd take her books. No phone. No TV. He'd keep her bored. He would be her only source of entertainment, only break from the terrible monotony he would create for her.

He'd come to see her strictly under the guise of providing her necessities, groceries and such. Not for conversation or entertainment. Certainly not for sex or affections. He'd make it seem like he didn't want her anymore, didn't need her, all while forcing her to want and need only him. He would breeze in, drop off whatever he had for her and go. Make her yearn for contact with him, make her desperate for his attention. He'd done that before, withholding attention from her as punishment. Ana didn't like to be lonely. She didn't like to feel isolated. It was the basis of what spurred their relationship in the very beginning. He would wait for her desperation to become so consuming that she would beg for him to look at her, to talk to her, to stay with her. He'd deny her, tell her his time was only for those who deserved it. She obviously hadn't cared about his attention when she was wrapped up with Christian Grey, even after all he'd done for her these past years. He'd make her feel immensely guilty.

In the end, she herself would beg for atonement from her transgressions. That would open the door again for punishments and sex, which would be a relief for him. Once he had that back in his life, for his own sanity, and in his arsenal to use against her, he was certain he could get her right back to where he needed her to be in his arrangement between them. Eventually, over time, he could start rewarding her as long as she kept up her diligent submission to him. He could give her back her books, TV, buy her some nice things. She'd be so grateful for those things again, that they would keep her happy for a while. And if she ever craved more, well, he'd deal with that when it came long. But never again would he loosen the leash enough to allow a recurrence of what had happened here. She would never work. She would never be allowed unfettered access to a phone or internet or anything that allowed her to communicate with other people that he himself wasn't monitoring closely.

Finding her a new place was going to be the hardest thing right now. He needed to find just the right combination of limited size and appeal while still remaining in a safe but not too nice area. He wanted everything to make her feel like she was depressed and suffocating in a disappointing, lonely, and slightly unsecured home without _actually_ compromising her safety.

The email from Ana had stated that she would be held in the hospital for a mandatory additional two days. It wasn't much to work with, but at least he actually had a timeline to work with. Pulling out a pen and paper, he jotted down a quick To-Do list, then began planning how to pull this off in such a limited amount of time.

* * *

*Three Days Later*

* * *

Scott stood in front of the mirror, dragging the razor blade with meticulous care along his jawline. In his mind, he played back the events of the last few days, recounting each event, making sure he had everything in place for what felt like the thousandth time.

Car: Towed

Job: Resignation Letter Prepared

Old Apartment: After Ana sees it empty, to be rented out

Belongings: As good as gone, movers coming this AM

New Apartment: Secured

Doing all of these tasks from afar was the biggest issue. It would have been plenty to do if he'd been able to do them himself, normally, but he was very certain Grey had eyes on him right now, and that meant he couldn't do anything himself that would arouse Grey's suspicions. He couldn't have Grey know he was planning things regarding Ana, which meant he couldn't go near her place, or her car, or do anything that would make Grey look into what he was doing. He had to make it seem like everything was business as usual, and that meant everything he did had to be done by others under his direction. So, for example, instead of just removing Ana's car from the lot, which should have been fine since technically it was _his_ car, titled in _his_ name, he was forced to find someone willing and slip them cash to tow it under the guise that it was parked illegally. That task and been rather easy to accomplish, and was the first thing he scratched off his list.

Her resignation letter was the easiest task, and one he got done the first night while he was still planning. He drafted it and printed it, and all he would have to do was tell Ana to sign it, to make sure it was official, before he delivered it to the HR department. If she was really looking to make amends to him like she said she was, she should be willing to accept and carry out any action he ordered her to, including quitting her job.

He'd known figuring out her future living arrangements would be the most time consuming and complicated endeavor, as well as being the most important thing on the list. He had to have a dismal place to put her in as soon as she was released. He couldn't allow her to be provided any creature comforts, even for a short while. It would ruin the whole effect of the plan if he allowed her to, for example, go back her her place, or come stay with him for a while, while he found the right place. It just couldn't happen that way. So the night he received her email, he began to tackle that as well, perusing multiple rental websites, trying to find something that appeared to meet his needs for Ana's new apartment. Then in the morning, in some of the precious few minutes he'd managed to scrape together at work, he phoned the various property managers to see if he could be provided with any additional, in depth information about the properties via email. Of course, it was not ideal to shop apartments without seeing them, but he simply had no choice. Grey had tons of resources at his disposal, and Scott couldn't risk Grey seeing him looking at places, and putting two and two together that he was moving Ana out.

While he'd waited for more information to be complied by the couple property managers who were willing to work with him, he arranged movers to come at the earliest time available, which was, unfortunately, not until the morning of Ana's release date from the hospital, to transport all of her belongings to a storage warehouse until he had time to go through it all and properly get rid of it. He tried everything to get them to come earlier, but the manager insisted they simply did not have the manpower on such short notice. This part of the plan was integral. He wanted her to come home, to find nothing left, to let that visual of everything in her life being gone to resonate with her before he showed her her new place. So he accepted what they offered, and just hoped they could complete the job in time before she was released.

In the early evening the night before her release, he was finally forwarded emails about two of apartments he'd inquired about. He wanted to make sure they carried the same lackluster appeal that they did in the original photos, as well as verify the surrounding areas and make sure they didn't offer much in the way of entertainment.

After scrutinizing the photos and specs of the two places, Scott had found an acceptable, tiny one bedroom with only the most basic accommodations. The area didn't offer much to do, which would likely keep Ana right where she should be- at home. And the neighborhood wasn't dangerous by any means, but wasn't particularly warm or welcoming either. The apartment came furnished with basic, cheap furniture, so he didn't have to worry about trying to find time to purchase anything new, since he wasn't allowing her the comfort of her own pieces. She would be able to cook small meals, shower, and sleep, and that was all he cared about. He'd accepted it immediately, and offered cash upfront, plus extra so he would be allowed access to the apartment that very day. Once he made the offer, the owner was enroute to drop off the keys and have the paperwork signed then and there, in the lobby of his own building.

Securing the apartment had felt like a huge weight off his shoulders at the time, but the weight was back this morning as reality set in of what really rested in the hands of the movers. He knew nothing was packed and ready to go in Ana's place, and there were things he really didn't want them seeing, touching, or going through, like her underwear drawer, for example, or the place she kept their toys and equipment hidden. He really wished he could be there to oversee everything and make sure they were working as efficiently as possible. Plus, he was entrusting them with one more task that would end in disaster if they failed to do it- they were to leave an envelope in the middle of the empty living room floor, with Ana's name on the front. Inside she would find a note telling her to meet him at the address for the new apartment. He was missing everything else, he wanted to be there when she saw the new place for the first time. And since he hadn't been linked to it yet, even if Grey's people saw him go there, and saw Ana meet him there, it would be too late. He would already have her back. But, again, with Grey's goons likely lurking, he had to concede the responsibility to the movers, regardless of whether or not he wanted to. It was be in _his_ best interests to keep everything status quo and show up for work in the morning like it was any other day.

He smiled a little to himself as he finally, for the first time in days, allowed himself to relax, feeling like everything that had seemed impossible just a few short days ago had come to fruition just in time. Sure, he still had to handle some of those things permanently, like getting her car out of the tow lot and physically selling it, but those things didn't need to be done _right now_. All he needed to have done right now was make sure she didn't have access to those things in her life. And he'd done that.

After a quick shower, he got dressed and left for the office, intent on being there before the movers arrived at Ana's, just so whoever was likely following him was lulled into a false sense of certainty about what he moves he was making.

He worked, sometimes able to fully immerse himself in what desperately needed to be done, and sometimes sitting there doing nothing at all as he let his mind wander to all the things he would do to Ana. He came up of snippets of ideas, things for now, things for later. He imagined her reactions, imagined, breaking her down again and reforming her. He thought of the what's and the how's of making that happen, and then imagined the ultimate goal of bringing her back into scenes.

He knew Grey lurked in the background of his foreseeable future, and that pissed him off. But as long as Ana was agreeing to come back to him, there wasn't anything Grey could do about it. Legally, Ana was an adult and she was consenting to whatever Scott had in mind. It wasn't illegal. Grey would likely be waiting in the wings for him to slip up in some sort of way, so he could bring him down, but Scott just knew that meant he had to be extra careful not to make any mistakes. The biggest concern he had was letting Grey anywhere near Ana again, but keeping her away from Grey House and isolated while he broke her in again would hopefully greatly decrease any chance Grey had of even coming in contact with her ever again.

Late in the morning, just before noon, Scott got a call from the moving company, stating that they were finished with the job. The apartment was empty, and the note had been left as directed, in the middle of the living room floor. Scott felt the excitement bloom in his chest. It had all worked out. It was actually done. Ana would be released soon, and she would come home and find the empty apartment, then the note, and then it would be a matter of time before she would arrive at the new place and start to fully learn what her fateful decisions had cost her.

* * *

*A Few Hours Later*

* * *

Scott had stayed in the office until about 2:30 PM before leaving for a meeting that didn't actually exist which he had added to his schedule two days ago. Ana had said she would be released in the early afternoon. The cab would get her from the hospital, bring her home, where she would discover the note and have to call them back to take her to the new apartment. That would take some time, so he aimed to be there at 3PM just to ensure he was there when she got there.

He parked his car around the back and accessed the main building through the rear doors. He entered the apartment, making a face as he did. It was perfect for what he wanted for Ana, but the idea that he was going to eventually be fucking her here was unappealing. Maybe by then he could buy her a new mattress or something, under the guise of earning some luxuries back through good behavior. Something would have to be done. But that wasn't something for him to worry about right now.

He chose to take a seat on one of the cheap wooden chairs at the small dinette set rather than on the dingy looking couch. And he waited.

And waited.

Three-thirty rolled around, then three-forty-five. By the time four o'clock hit he was going out of his mind. He didn't want to reach out to Ana, because he didn't want her to even think she was on his mind, but in the end he caved and sent her an email asking if she'd been released on time. He waited, and found himself become increasingly agitated as the minutes ticked by with no reply. The agitation turned into a phone call, which went straight to voicemail, and he started to get the feeling that something wasn't right.

He debated back and forth on leaving, but in the end decided that he couldn't sit in this apartment for another moment, just wondering what was happening. What if Grey had intercepted her? He couldn't risk her being alone with him for too long.

He got back in his car and sped to her old place. At least he could find out if she had come home and seen the letter. If she hadn't then she was likely still at the hospital. If she had, then he would have to try and figure out what had happened to her.

Turning the key in the lock of her old place, he stepped into the room, and felt a wash of relief when he saw the envelope still sitting there. He picked it up, flipping it over to see if it was still sealed, which it was. Okay, so there must have been a hold up at the hospital.

Putting the letter back down in the middle of the floor, Scott turned to leave, to go back and wait for her eventual arrival at the new place. Until he heard a throat clear behind him. He spun around quickly, on high alert, and found someone standing in the kitchen doorway, smirking at him.

* * *

 **Taylor POV**

He was standing there in his typical attire, sans jacket, an unimpressed look on his face as he watched Kennedy jerk around to looked where the noise had come from. Lazily, he hiked his thumb toward the envelope sitting in the middle of the floor, the one he'd inspected to the best of his ability after he'd broken in here after the mover's had left. It was sealed, but just felt like it had paper inside. "She's not going to see that."

"And why is that?" Kennedy asked, cocking his head slightly, trying to remain calm and unaffected, though they both knew he was shocked to find him standing in Ana's apartment.

"Because she's not coming here," he said slowly, like he was talking to an idiot. He'd been watching every move this guy had been pulling over the last couple of day. He'd tried to make it seem like nothing was going on, but it would be stupid to assume that Kennedy was just going to let Ana go without a second thought. Taylor knew about his trips to the hospital, knew about the emails and phone calls to property managers and moving companies and tow truck services. He wasn't entirely sure what the endgame was for this plan Kennedy was in the middle of executing, but he was aware of all of the pieces being moved around to execute it. And it all started happening after the email from Miss Steele. The email he had drafted, and sent from Miss Steele's phone, which he had been tasked with getting rid of by Mr. Grey.

The last thing Ana had needed was Kennedy intercepting her at the hospital, or worse, after her release. Taylor had eyes on Kennedy himself, of course, and with the help of Welch and Barney, had eyes on all of his email accounts and phone logs as well. In an effort to keep Kennedy from discovering Ana's true discharge date and allow her a headstart out of Seattle, Taylor had sat with her and helped draft a fake email that would throw off Kennedy's scent. Then he had the phone disposed of, and a replaced with a new one.

Ana had been released and safely arrived in Montesano yesterday before noon. The evening before, Taylor had gone to her apartment and packed up some clothes and anything else she told him she needed, and had had her belongings delivered to her step-father's house before she even arrived. The rest, she said, she didn't want or need. So there was plenty there when the movers showed up at her place to pack up, just not anything she actually wanted to keep. But since Kennedy was obviously trying to lay low, he had no idea Taylor had already been in there and removed all of her essentials. She said she didn't need nor want her car, and had signed a resignation letter drafted by Mr. Grey, which he offered to turn into the HR department personally.

From the looks of everything that had been carried out, Kennedy seemed to be punishing Miss Steele by removing all of her possessions, though Taylor wasn't naive enough to believe those were the only 'punishments' he'd planned for her to endure. It gave him great pleasure to know Ana would be none the wiser to all of it, and that Kennedy had gone through all of this, and likely paid a lot of money to pull it all off in time, and for nothing.

"What are you doing here? How did you get in here?" Kennedy hissed, watching as Taylor pulled a keychain out of his pants pocket. He swung them around on his index finger once, then tossed them to Kennedy, who clumsily caught them. He knew he'd recognize them as Ana's keys. She'd given them to him when he'd gone to get her stuff, and she'd refused to take them back when he'd returned. The ring had her car key, her home key, and her office keys on it, and she'd told Taylor to keep them or destroy them, for all she cared. She just had no desire to have them herself.

"Where did you take her?" Kennedy bellowed, his face turning red with anger as he turned his glare from the key ring back to Taylor.

"I didn't take her anywhere. She's an adult. She can go where she pleases. And she did just that."

"Cut the shit. I know you're hiding her. I know Grey is trying to keep her from me!"

Taylor leaned away from the wall, picking up his jacket from the countertop where he'd set it in the kitchen. He carefully put it on, tugging on the lapels, straightening the collar. "Miss Steele is exactly where she should be. Far, far away from you. And she is never coming back to you." He'd done what he came here to do, which was let Kennedy know he'd lost Ana, while giving no actual details away about the why's, what's and how's of Ana's locations and his knowledge of Kennedy's doings over the last days. He needed Kennedy to know he couldn't get anywhere near Ana without someone on his team knowing about it. It was imperative, above all else, that Ana stay safe. He closed the distance between them, walking toward the door, really, but Kennedy was in his path. He stopped when he was within feet of him. "I _will_ be watching you."

And then he was gone.


	23. Chapter 23

_**Christian POV**_

In those first few days, even weeks after he'd found Ana on her bathroom floor, Christian had replayed the events in his head often. Too often. So often, that it had brought back nightmares he'd long since stopped having, not since his teenage years. For about a week he had them every night, sometimes multiple times a night. Sometimes it was his birth mother on the floor of the dirty apartment they'd shared when he was so young. Sometimes it was Ana, still and cold on the floor of her bathroom. Sometimes it was a confusing combination of the two. But when he'd wake up in a cold sweat in his own bed, it inevitably incited hours of lying awake, his mind drifting off to them both, thinking about the little he knew of the life his birth mother lived, and thinking of Ana and all she'd been through.

But Ana by far occupied the most time in his brain. There was nothing he could have done from the ages of zero to four to help save his birth mother. But Ana, he'd done everything he could, short of kidnapping her and forcefully keeping her from Kennedy, to help her. And even with everything he'd put into play, things had still gone horribly wrong.

Like Luke Sawyer.

He'd been put in place to keep her safe. When the dust had settled and Ana was awake and safe, Christian had unleashed his fury upon the man who had been tasked with keeping Kennedy away from her, yet hadn't done it. Part of him was legitimately livid at the CPO, but part of him knew he was just a convenient outlet for Christian's overwrought emotions at the time.

But Taylor, as always, had quickly and calmly set him straight. Ana had been on covert, light surveillance. Luke was one man watching her whole building that night. All he could do was watch the main doors from his vehicle parked beyond the lot. He had very incomplete coverage, no cameras, no additional eyes on the other doors of the building, and distance to impede him. Hindsight afforded them the knowledge that Kennedy knew Christian had been in contact with her, so he had likely kept an intentionally very low profile getting in and out of her building that night. Sawyer insisted that no one matching Kennedy's description went in or out of the main entrance of her building, and his car had not been in the lot... Kennedy must have snuck in- parked down the road and went in the back. There's only so much covert surveillance can catch, unfortunately. This isn't a movie where they have unlimited access to every detail about everybody's everything. They do the best they can, with what they have. Kennedy was a highly intelligent man, but he didn't even have to be, in order to devise a plan to get into a relatively low security building that he'd been to a million times, with ease. He'd had all the advantages that night, and he'd covered his tracks easily. There was really nothing Sawyer, in his limited capacities, could have done to ensure things had played out differently.

Christian wished he could put Sawyer on Ana now, in Montesano, but he was trying very hard to allow her to live the normal life she desperately deserved. So he settled for what everyone- Ana, Ray, and himself- could agree on. A state of the art home security system was installed in Ray's home. Christian had paid for it, but he had no access to it. Everything was in Ray's name, and only he and Ana had access to the alerts, to the cameras, to the codes. Its implementation did give Christian some peace of mind, though not nearly enough.

Because Scott Kennedy was still just out there. Still just living his life, like none of this had ever happened. And it infuriated Christian in such an intense way that he sometimes didn't even know what to do with himself when he thought about it. He'd gotten so worked up about the fact that that motherfucker was just freely roaming the streets that he'd destroyed more than a few expensive items when he'd hurled them at his office walls.

And roaming the streets? That was one thing. But the place Kennedy was really roaming that got Christian's blood pressure to skyrocket, was the halls of Grey House. His kingdom. His sanctuary. The place he loved more than anything because he'd built it from the ground up, the place he took pride in because within its walls, he was the biggest in an ocean of big fish. The place he now hated, because lurking within its walls was none other than the man he hated more than anything.

It had been momentarily vindicating when he'd gotten the report from Taylor that Kennedy had been completely blindsided by Ana's failure to show up at her apartment after she as released from the hospital. He hadn't been sure that everything would play out as they'd hoped, but instead, it had all worked out perfectly. And as sweet as it was knowing they'd foiled whatever plans Kennedy had for her homecoming, after they left him reeling in her empty apartment after learning that she wasn't coming back to him, the thrill didn't last long, because he was still just out there, and Christian hated knowing he was still a free, rich man living in luxury, not having paid for his crimes against Ana.

He'd tried everything he could think of the rectify that. He'd had multiple lawyers look over the contract he had Kennedy sign, trying to find some loophole to force him out, to at least make him lose the company _he'd_ built from the ground up, the company _he_ loved. Christian knew all too well how much that would hurt him. But when nothing could be found, he was quick to change tack, just looking for any way to severe ties with the company altogether. It wouldn't be as sweet in the way of revenge, but GHI would take a hit, and more importantly, at least Christian wouldn't have to deal with Kennedy being at Grey House any longer.

But nothing. When he got desperate, he had even been ready to offer Kennedy a buyout just to get rid of him, but despite how much he fucking hated it, Taylor had brought up the very good point that as long as he was a part of GEH, Christian had control over him. They'd know where he lived, where he worked. They could keep an eye on him. He if was free to leave, with a huge lump sum of money no less, he could go anywhere and do anything. Even go back to Montesano, a place he obviously was very family with. If he was here in Seattle, he was not near Ana, and that was a very real silver lining to a shitfest of a situation.

And so Scott Kennedy, Christian's number one most hated person on this planet, still worked for his company, still under the GEH umbrella. Christian refused to take meetings with him, instead forcing other staff to handle any and all business related to GHI. It was maddening, being in the same building as him, day in and day out. He did he best to just turn a blind eye to GHI and Kennedy's very existence. His main goal was to focus on things he could actually control. Which meant a whole hell of a lot of working.

But he was unhappy. That was blatant.

It sounded so menial, to just say, 'I'm unhappy.' But at the end of the day, when he laid down in his bed at night, that was what he felt. Legitimate unhappiness. He used to be happy. His life, before Ana, had been happy. So, theoretically, everything should have gone back to how it was then. Before Ana.

But that was the cavet, wasn't it? Not so much the fact that there was a 'before Ana', but the implication that there could then be an 'after Ana'. And there _was_ an 'after Ana'. He was living it.

They barely communicated. He hadn't seen her since the move, though it took great restraint on his part to stop himself from going down to Montesano to see her. He'd offered once, the first weekend after she'd gone down, and she'd very gently told him no. She needed to focus on her therapy, on normalcy, without the added pressure of a relationship. He'd promised it wouldn't be like that, that he would put no pressure on her, but she'd told him that him being there, especially so soon, was pressure enough. So he'd done the only thing he could, he agreed not to visit. Until she told him she wanted to see him, until she made that first step, he would stay away, settling for the occasional email or text as communication with her.

Letting her go was one of the hardest things he'd ever found himself having to do. Physically she was already gone. But actually _letting her_ _ **go**_ , letting go of the desires to see her, speak to her, be in her presence. These things were much more difficult that even he could have imagined. And he'd imagined them to be difficult.

He wanted her. God, did he want her. He wanted her heart, her mind, her body. He imagined having her in every single way, often. He imagined her curled up on couches with him watching movies. He imagined cupping her cheeks and kissing her sweet lips as he whispered corny but true confessions about his feelings. He imagined taking her to his bed and worshiping her from head to toe all night long. He wanted to experience everything with her, he wanted to experience life with her. The exciting, the mundane, the heavy, the delight, the pain, the love. He wanted the chance to know what it was like to have her at his side.

And yet he had nothing. Truly, he had no part of her. And when he had to remind himself of the reality of the situation, he was forced to admit that he never did. There might be something there, there might be feelings, but ultimately, there was nothing. Nothing that promised a future for them. She was off getting healthy, finding herself, learning to be happy. And with that would come new experiences for her, things she'd never gotten to do. She'd get the chance to get out and meet people, make friends, and who knows, maybe meet someone who meant more to her. He was facing a long separation from her, and he knew the likelihood of her finding someone close to her, someone more her age, someone more at her level, was fairly large.

Sometimes he even got caught up imaging how it could play out. He'd sit awake in bed at night and think about her, imagining her at a bookstore or a coffee shop. She's not paying attention. She bumps into someone. She's embarrassed, looking up, already apologizing profusely when her eyes make contact with his. She stops talking. He smiles. He's captivated, of course, by the beautiful face looking up at him, the big blue apologetic eyes meeting his own. There are sparks. They talk. The next thing they know, numbers are exchanged, then texts. A phone call. They meet up. They talk, maybe for hours. Things escalate. It just happens. She never planned it. But there it is.

She deserved to go out and live like a normal woman in her early twenties. He couldn't offer her that, not really. His life just wasn't conducive to that. With him, she'd have to be resigned to constant security surveillance, to paparazzi ambushes, to boring business dinners and events and galas filled with pretentious assholes vying for his attention. That was a far cry from the simple college life, where her biggest worries should be which bar to hit on Friday or whether or not she'd get her paper done. He didn't want to be yet another man who took that away from her, even if he knew he had much better intentions than Kennedy ever did.

He wanted her, but he didn't want to push her, didn't want to put too much pressure on her to make a decision about him that she wasn't ready to make. If she ever decided that what she truly wanted was him, she would have him in a heartbeat. But he couldn't push her. She had to be free to live her life as she needed to. That way, if and when she finally came to him, he would know it was because she saw what life had to offer and had decided that what she wanted most was him.

So, although she plagued his thoughts often, he tried to focus on living his life day by day, tried to be productive and not allow everything in his world to be consumed by the ghosts she left behind.

And some days, he did well enough.

And then days like today, he seemingly thought about nothing but her. And today, he ruminated on what the possibilities of living a normal life really meant for them, for their potential future once she was healthy. And today, he was obsessing about her sexual past.

When he'd been trying to help Ana out of the life she'd found herself stuck in, it had been more about removing her from Kennedy's clutches than removing her from BDSM lifestyle itself. But the two and gone had in hand when he'd been trying to do so, because she was only involved in it because of Kennedy, and was still actively involved with it because of him, so it made sense to just extricate herself from all of it in order to get away from him.

When he'd learned about her lifestyle, he'd only scratched the surface of learning about it, only reading enough to get a very basic grasp on what it was about, just to try and understand what she was talking about when she talked about it. But he hadn't gone too indepth, because he didn't need to know everything, or _anything_ , about BDSM to know that what she was doing and how she'd been introduced to it was not in any way acceptable within that community. He'd felt that whatever BDSM _really_ was didn't much matter, because he was sure that what Kennedy was doing to her wasn't the way it should have been.

But in the after, in the down time when Ana was safe, and he couldn't sleep at night and he thought about her, he let unpleasant thoughts fill his mind. Tonight was no exception. And tonight, a thought popped into his head out of nowhere. Why hadn't she run for the hills when Kennedy introduced her to BDSM? She'd been only _fifteen_ at the time. An awkward, fifteen year old virgin. Why hadn't she completely freaked out when this older man offered her not only sex, but sex that involved being completely out of control, that involved physical punishment? What if she really did _like_ BDSM? Where would that leave him, in the future?

The thought had led him to the inevitable- he found himself on the internet, looking up articles about what BDSM really was. It had opened up a can of worms to say the least. Articles led to pictures which led to videos. Before he knew it, he was perusing dark reaches of the internet, watching things that horrified him. The content inevitably had him wondering what exactly she'd done with Kennedy, and how, if she ever chose to be with him, he could compete with any of this. He wanted no part of this, himself, but part of him wondered if she would. Even after she was in a better place mentally, what if she still wanted this kind of sexual relationship? Would the idea of a normal sex be unappealing to her after everything she'd experienced? Afterall, it was something many people did under safe and consensual guidelines. Maybe Ana would still seek this out once she was healthy. Maybe she'd still want this, but with a respectful Dominant.

He tortured himself as he imagined scenarios where he finally had her in his arms, in his bed, and while he experienced the most mind blowing sex of his life, she laid there, bored and unsatisfied. It reminded him of a the memory of the one time he really did have her in his bed. She'd been silent and still then. At the time he'd attributed it to her not being ready for that step between them, but now, he wondered if she really had just been bored with what he'd had to offer her sexually.

He groaned, and the masochist in him had him clicking on video after video, watching submissives being tied up every which way, hit with things he'd never seen before, and fucked so hard he could barely stand to watch it.

It was like he was on autopilot while he was watching. Click*click*click. He just watched more and more, whatever he came across. He watched instructional videos, and he watched hardcore scenes. Sometimes he was sure the videos were all a setup, were just pornography. But sometimes the videos were amateurish, and he knew he was watching real play being practiced by real people. He just kept watching whatever he came across.

He'd somehow ended up on Tumblr, where one of the pages he was on had him stopping cold. There was a picture. He did a double take, because at first glance it definitely looked like it could be Ana. It was taken at a distance, a petite brunette waited on her knees, her arms straight down behind her back, chest jutted forward, nipples perky, back arched in a gentle, feminine curves down her to naked behind where it rested on her bare feet. Her head was tilted toward the floor, and she was blindfolded, a ballgag in her mouth, wearing a thick, black collar around her neck. It could have been anyone, really. The features were hard to discern because it wasn't up close, and it looked as though it was taken when a soft focus lense.

But the fact that it _could_ be Ana had him reeling. What if Kennedy had pictures, _videos_ of her? Even if he'd never posted them online, what if he had them at home, where he could watch them at his leisure?

Christian felt his gut roil at the thought. He clicked the picture, finding its origin, and scrolled through the content of the page. More images of the petite brunette flooded the screen, and Christian caught himself warring between looking and not looking. It might not be Ana, but if it was, he felt uncomfortable looking at the images of her like this, without her permission. It felt dirty and wrong. But in the end, he couldn't help himself.

She had a large blindfold on in every single picture, and none of them were particularly crisp clean images. She was in all different manners of positions, bound and gagged in all of them, making it even harder to distinguish her true facial features. He'd only really seen her body once, and it had been dark. He hadn't had the chance to memorize it the way he wished he could have, so he just couldn't rule out the possibility of this being Ana one way or the other. But he had to admit, the pictures held a dark but beautiful quality, the woman flawless in all of them, perfectly positioned, her body always twisted in a flattering way. It was art, really. Kinky, sexualized art.

Closing out the browser, he had a new mission. If Scott had images of Ana, he wouldn't for much longer.

Picking up his phone, he dialed Welch's number.

"Mr. Grey?"

"Welch. I need you to get together with Barney find a way into Kennedy's personal computers, phone, iPad, whatever. I want every electronic device he owns to be searched for pictures and videos of Anastasia. I want everything wiped clean. No copies. I want them gone."

"Can do, sir. However, I should warn you there's a likelihood that if he has images saved of her, he probably has hardcopies or external drives with them downloaded. They are probably not just sitting on his laptop, sir. Or at least not strictly."

Fuck, he hadn't thought about that…

"I'll inform Taylor, then you can get with him on a plan for a scouting mission of Mr. Kennedy's home," he ordered.

"Yes, sir," Welch agreed.

If there was something to find, they were damn well going to find it.


	24. Chapter 24

_**Ana**_

Things had been going surprisingly well in the few weeks following Ana's return to Montesano.

She hated what she'd done, the instantaneous and selfish decision to ingest as many pills as she had in an attempt to mitigate the horrible hurt that was inside of her that night.

No.

She took a deep breath. Suicide. She'd attempted suicide. She'd been working very hard with her therapist on not sugar coating the things that had happened in her life. Trying to gloss over what Scott had done- molesting her. What Scott was- a pedophile. And what she'd done- tried to commit suicide. She needed to face the realities in order to overcome them. It wasn't always easy, but the suicide attempt had really been a final straw and catalyst to her being able to face the realities. If you'd asked her to admit to any of these things even a month ago, she would have denied them up and down and left and right and every other direction in the world. But now, after so much had happened, she could see the truth, could see Scott for what he really was.

And now she was able to start to heal.

After being able to admit to how she was manipulated and molested by this authority figure she should have been able to trust, Ana was able to really start digging into everything about her past and personality that made her susceptible to Scott's advances. Digging through her insecurities, her latent childhood abandonment issues, and her systematic isolation from the real world and how they were all things that kept the cycle going. She was flourishing in therapy, eager to work on herself, eager to learn how to break through all of that, how to identify it and what to do in the future to keep herself from letting insecurity and fear of the unknown from rising up and living out the rest of her life the way she wished she could.

It was what had led her to do the one thing she'd always wanted- enroll in school.

She was nervous. So, so nervous. But the kind of nervous that was born from excitement. She wanted this so much, wanted so much more from life than she'd had. And yes, she was behind everyone else, but she was still so young, and so capable. She could go back, even with the late start, and do something, do _anything_ , be any _one_ she wanted to be.

Things with Ray were good, too. They'd had a couple of therapy sessions together where, with her therapist mediating the situation, she'd come clean to him about the basics of what had actually happened to her. It had been hard. Ray had cried. God, he barely ever got emotional, and he'd openly wept that day in Dr. Kingman's office. He took a lot of blame, which was never something she wanted to happen. But Dr. Kingman said it was normal for a parent to take on the blame for a situation like this, where their child was being systematically abused right under their noses and they had no idea. Together they worked through it, and Ana was pretty sure Ray had a set up couple of future sessions for himself to continue to work through it. But when all was said and done, they were both coping as best they could, while still wading through the mess that have been left in the wake of everything.

Another thing Ana tackled in therapy was Christian. She just wasn't sure what the right way to handle the situation would be with him, so she'd asked the doctor for help figuring out how to navigate it. She admitted to feeling terribly about basically leaving him blowing in the breeze after all he'd done to help her, but she know she was no good for him until she got her shit sorted out. Dr. Kingsman tried really pulling from her, her motives with him. She wanted Ana to make sure her interest in Christian was pure, and not her trying to attach herself to someone else for fear of going it alone. But Ana was sure. If there was anything she was sure it about right now, it was that she wanted the chance to try for a normal relationship with him. Dating. Real dates with dinner and movies and dates that end in kisses. She wanted to know what it felt like to be courted and cared about, and not just with anyone. With him. Because after everything, he'd more than proven that he legitimately cared about her, and had earned her trust over and over again, even when she'd caused him pain and heartache.

But he deserved the best. And she wasn't willing to put him through any more pain. She wouldn't risk hurting him again, not until she knew that she could offer him a better version of herself. That was why she'd kept contact between them so minimal. But today, she needed to talk to him. She'd gotten the letter of acceptance for school, and he was the one person she most wanted to tell. Because she felt like she owed him everything, and she never would have gotten here without him.

She took a deep breath and picked up the phone. She knew he knew about Scott and the whole college application thing, and how that had been the last straw of the situation that led to him finding her on the bathroom floor. She knew he was supportive and would be happy for her, truly happy to see her pursuing that goal, so she wanted to tell him.

"Ana," he breathed into the phone as soon as he answered. There was so much emotion behind just the way he said her name.

"Hi, Christian," she said shyly.

"How are you," he asked eagerly. "How is everything? How's Ray? And Montesano? What have you been up to?"

She couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up her throat at how quickly he spoke. It was obvious he was excited to hear from her, and it was so sweet that he cared.

"I'm good. Ray is good. Montesano is good. Everything is honestly going really good right now for me."

"God, I'm so glad to hear that. To hear from you, in general."

"And how about you, Mr. Grey? How are you?"

"Me?" he asked, and she could hear the tinge of sadness in his voice. "I'm… better now that I'm talking to you."

She felt her stomach drop a little. She knew she had put him through an emotional wringer, and she felt terribly that such a good hearted, kind person had been stuck in the crosshairs of her life exploding. He didn't deserve the emotional turmoil she'd laid on him since they'd met.

"I want to apologize again for everything, Christian. You've helped me so much, and I can never repay you for everything you've done."

"I've told you Ana, no apology is necessary. And I am just happy I was able to help you at all. Seeing you doing better is more reward than I could ever ask for. It's all I ever wanted for you."

"Well, in that same vein," she started, "I actually called for a reason. I wanted to tell you that I have been applying to schools, and I was accepted, and will be starting school in the fall."

There was a brief pause, though it felt like it lasted forever, before he spoke. "Seriously Ana? That's… that's _amazing_. I could not be more proud of your right now. I know how much you want this, and I know whatever you do, you'll be amazing. I couldn't be more thrilled for you." The purse sincerity of his words, the actually joy she felt in his tone, shook her for a moment. He cared so much about her happiness… It was slightly overwhelming, but in a good way. She'd never felt emotion like that before from someone else.

"Thank you," she said, just as sincerely. He was so supremely supportive.

"Where will you be going?" he asked.

"The University of Washington-"

"In Seattle?" he cut in, hopeful.

"Bothell, actually," she said, feeling bad for getting his hopes up. "I applied for loans and am looking into housing and everything already. Ray is going to help when he can, but I just… I really want to do this, you know?"

"I know, baby. I'm so happy for you," he said. "Have you picked a major? I know you'd mentioned an interest in publishing before."

"You remembered that?" she asked, surprised.

"I remember everything you've ever told me, Ana," he admitted quietly. God, he was so sweet.

She sat up a little, feeling the excitement coursing through her as she prepared to talk about the plans she'd had swimming in her head. She'd been over all of it with Ray, but he was so taciturn, he really didn't show much excitement. He was sweet, and completely supportive, but he just wasn't the kind of guy to get overjoyous, and she had no one else in her life to really share this exciting time in her life with.

"Well, you're right, publishing was kind of always were I saw myself before, but I've been thinking a lot about this, and I think what I really want to do is go into education."

"You want to be a teacher?"

"I want to do something that _means_ something. I love books, so I thought, why can't I kill two birds with one stone and **teach** _literature_?" She attempted a deep breath, but it came out stilted. "Kids need positive role models. Maybe I could be that for someone who needs it. But actually help them."

There was a long pause as she, and she assumed he as well, thought about what she was really saying, what really drove this decision. Her interaction with a teacher when she needed help has ended up for horrific. There was power in this for her, power to be able to come back from what she'd been through and do the right thing for other kids who needed it.

"I think that's amazing, Ana. Your courage is truly admirable. I can't tell you how impressed I am with your decision to do this."

"You really think it's a good idea? You think I could help someone, even if it's ever just one person?"

"I can't think of anyone else who would be more qualified to do this than you."

"Thank you, Christian. Your support means the world to me."

"You'll always have it, Ana. However you need it. No matter what."

"I know. Thank you."

He hesitated then said, "I know I agreed to give you space, but… I'd really like to do something to celebrate such a huge step for you. Is there any way I can convince you to have dinner with me? Just a simple celebratory dinner. I promise."

"That actually sounds amazing. I would love to have dinner with you," she said. It was an easy decision to make. She was excited about this, and she missed Christian, and celebrating this decision with him felt so completely right, that there was no way she could turn down the offer.

"Really?" he asked, his excitement equivalent to that of a child who just got told they could pick out any toy in the store. She laughed.

"Yes, really."

She heard rustling and his voice sounded muffled for a moment when he said, "I can get my helicopter ready and be there in a couple of hours. I know it'll be like- damn it- 9 o'clock by then but I'm sure we can find somewhere nice that will be open and-"

She laughed again. "It's Wednesday, Christian. It's late and you have work in the morning. What do you say, if you're not busy, we push it back until Saturday? Then we can have a proper, non rushed celebration dinner."

"Yes," he said. "Okay. Saturday. It's a date." She heard him take in a sharp breath. "No! Not a date! I mean- I just meant- I'm not trying to push you-"

"Christian," she laughed. "It's fine. Relax." She had such a hard time reconciling the confident, take charge CEO she knew Christian Grey to be from this man on the phone. Did she really make him this nervous. It was like he was worried if he moved one millimeter in the wrong direction that she was going to cut him out of her life, and even though he was probably the nicest, most selfless, not to mention handsome man she had ever met, it appeared that he really cared about keeping her in his life. Didn't he realize that she felt the same way? That the time she needed had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with her, and trying to make herself better, to make herself deserving of someone even half as good as him, let alone him?

She hoped that wasn't the case. Maybe seeing each other and spending some time together would solidify to him that she wasn't going anywhere, that this might be a slow journey, but she was on one path for her life right now, and he was one of the biggest destinations she had every intention of reaching.

 _ **Taylor**_

It was risky. But there was no way he could resist the desire to do this. Not even just because the boss ordered it, but because he wanted it on a personal level. Taylor had a daughter. He had a baby girl who he didn't get to spend as much time with as he liked, who lived a life with details he wasn't completely privy to because he wasn't around seven days a week. Anyone could be interacting with his baby. Anyone could hurt her. He hoped no harm would ever befall her, and God help any fucker who ever tried.

But Anastasia Steele had been hurt. Taylor had hated Ray Steele when he learned about Ana's situation. He immediately assumed him to be a neglectful father. If he had been paying any attention at all, he should have seen the signs that she was in trouble, he thought. But now, he was learning that Ray was just another hard working single father to a non-biological daughter that he'd taken in when she'd needed a permanent home. He'd spent seven days a week trying to make ends meet to provide for her, to keep a roof over her head, food on the table, and clothes on her back. Maybe there had been signs. Maybe not. Taylor would and could never know. But it was obvious that Ray Steele had a lot of love for his daughter, and Taylor assumed he would spend the rest of his life feeling guilty if he ever found out exactly what happened to his daughter for all of those years.

Regardless of how it all was able to fall into place that Ana was taken advantage of the way she was, the fact was, it happened. It happened, and that infuriated Taylor in a way he'd ever quite felt before. So when Welch told him that Mr. Grey wanted them to discuss a plan to breach Kennedy's home and search for pictures or videos of Ana, Taylor knew it was probably the most risky thing he'd ever been asked to do, but also knew there was no way he wasn't going to do it. Because if Kennedy did have images, Taylor wanted them gone as much as anyone. Destroyed. So they could never come back to haunt the sweet girl who was trying to get her life back.

A girl the boss was head over heels in love with.

Which made this so much more important. Taylor had spent years at Mr. Grey's side, and he was a good man, maybe one of the best men Taylor had ever met. He deserved to be happy. And even though things with Ana had been quite strenuous up until this point, they had the potential for real happiness together, something they both deserved. If he could help bring that to them, he would.

Donning the same gloves that he'd worn the night he'd slammed his fist into Kennedy's face, he made his way down the hall to Kennedy's apartment door. Barney had gotten him the schematics for the building, so he knew exactly where all the security features were. It was a solid system, since it was a high end complex, so rather than risk getting caught on the cameras, Barney was just going to hack in and override the system to erase any footage. Before he entered Kennedy's door, however, he would pull the neoprene mask over his face, just in case Kennedy had additional surveillance inside of his apartment.

Although illegal acts were something he rarely, if ever, did while employed for Mr. Grey, Taylor still had a well rounded set of skills that aided in such tasks. For example, lock picking. It was a something he was very proficient in, regardless of the fact that it was a skill he hadn't officially practiced in years. Sliding his kit inconspicuously out of the front pocket of his backpack, he carefully maneuvered the tools until he heard the satisfying pop of the lock. He smirked to himself in smug satisfaction.

Once he was inside, he quickly scanned the layout of Kennedy's apartment. It was pretty basic- a nice place, definitely masculine. It looked like a pretty routine adult bachelor's home. Nothing seemed to indicate the presence of a women, no photos hug on the walls of Ana and him, as if they'd had more than the disgusting relationship they did. He had some nice furniture, nice art. Everything was simple and streamlined, not unlike the boss's apartment. It was basically what he'd expected. He looked for any security devices, but didn't see anything overtly conspicuous. Still, he kept his mask on just in case.

He had the urge to just start breaking things, but he knew he couldn't. He already had a planned to do one thing, leave one clue to Kennedy so he knew that someone broken into him home and so that he knew _exactly_ what they'd taken. It would send a message. That he wasn't untouchable, that they were still there, and nothing was safe. And if Taylor found what he thought he would find, there wasn't going to be shit Kennedy could do about it anyway. Because the likelihood was that Kennedy had pictures of Ana when she was underage, and if he didn't want to go to jail for child pornography, he wouldn't say shit to the police about it. So it was important that that remained the focus of the message sent to Kennedy here. Nothing else could be damaged or stolen, only the images. So, if he went to the police about the break-in, and they asked was was missing, he didn't have anything to claim, unless he wanted to admit to what he'd done.

That topic had already brought up a whole argument before all of these plans were made. Why not just get Kennedy arrested on child pornography charges if he did, in fact, have photos of Ana underage? As enticing as the idea had been, it was something that, as a group they realized would probably only hurt Ana in the long run. Firstly, to even get the police involved, they had to have probable cause, not just an assumption that pictures existed. And if they did, they wouldn't put Kennedy away forever. And dragging him through the court system meant dragging any photos of Ana that did exist through the court system as well, exposing them to who knows how many other eyes. Ana was finally free from him and doing better. The last thing anyone wanted to do was cause her to regress in therapy because they opened a can of worms with images of her like that. So they decided that it was in her best interests to just collect and destroy anything they found, while not even so much as mentioning the idea to her.

Taylor knew there was a chance Kennedy could have been very paranoid and hid any material he had of Ana in a very discrete spot, but he just had a gut instinct that wasn't the case. The man was super confident. He'd gotten away with this for so long, he thought he was untouchable. So Taylor wasn't too worried about stuff being on a tiny SD card and slipped behind an electrical outlet cover plate, or in some professionally hidden safe disguised as an object he'd never think to check. The likelihood was that he had the files sitting on a computer, or on a drive that was hidden in some drawer in his desk, maybe in something as movie-typical as a sock drawer.

Wherever Kennedy did his work from home was where Taylor wanted to start. He walked through the living room toward the hallway, pushing open doors and checking the rooms as he went. There was a bathroom just off the living room, then a linen/laundry closet. The last two doors were obvious the master bedroom and Kennedy's home office, complete with giant shelves of books and a big oak desk with a laptop sitting front and center. Bingo.

Taylor entered the room and walked around the desk, brushing a gloved hand over the back of the laptop. He picked it up, flipping to over to reveal the IT sticker firmly on the bottom that said

"Property of Greener Horizon's Inc, GEH IT DEPT, Issue#34464"

Taylor debated going through it, but only for a moment. There was no way he was dumb enough to keep anything on a work laptop, especially when Grey was up his asshole 24/7. And even if he was, Barney could easily gain access and find out. He made a mental note to have Barney scrub it just to be sure, then set it back down in the middle of the desk where he'd found it.

He took a seat at the desk, moving the chair position down so he could reach the bottom drawer easier, then started opening them one by one and rifling through them. Mostly it was business shit- folders and files and papers. He slid his fingers across edges, checking for inconsistencies in the wood- false bottoms or hidden compartments. But there was nothing.

He figured he would circle back around for a more in depth look at the rest of the office if he didn't find anything in one of the more obvious places. So he moved across the hall to the master bedroom, where he riffled through the dresser drawers. Nothing, so he moved to the closet. Kennedy had a decent sized walk in, so Taylor started rummaging through the drawers in there, pulling back clothes. And sure enough, in the back of one of the bottom drawers was a lock box. Taylor rolled his eyes. Even if he didn't know how to pick the lock on it, this thing was relatively small and easy to grab and run. Why would anyone keep anything valuable in a box that could just be carried out?

Picking the cheap Masterlock, he opened the box, but there was just cash and some documents inside of it. Taylor slammed it closed and put the lock back on, shoving it back it the drawer.

He walked around the room, checking shelving to make sure it wasn't hollowed out, checking artwork to make sure it wasn't covering a wall safe, etc. He checked the ones in the hall and the living room. He continued to comb the apartment, looking anywhere he could think to find where Kennedy might have stashed something.

He uncovered multiple areas where Kennedy hid cash, files with all of his important papers of patents on technology GHI was working on- stuff he was supposed to have turned over to the GEH archives, even a gun, which Taylor permanently disabled since he couldn't take it with him, but didn't want Kennedy to ever be able to use. He also found a lot of fucked up sex shit, shit that looked harsh and painful for whoever was on the receiving end of it, and that only served to fuel his anger. God, how he wished that man could get a taste of his own medicine, he thought while he held up a particularly harsh looking implement that looked like a whip with a bunch of tails with metal studs on the ends. He seemingly found all the areas Kennedy hid stuff he didn't want found, except anything related to Ana. Maybe he just didn't have anything. Maybe he was actually smart enough to not keep any physical evidence of his relationship with her.

He sighed, irritated. He really didn't want to have to tell the boss he found nothing. Because finding nothing didn't necessarily mean there was nothing to find. As much as he hated the idea of Kennedy having that kind of shit on Ana, at least if he found it, he knew Kennedy no longer had it in his possession. This way, they could never be sure that nothing was there.

Clenching his teeth, he went back into the office, and sat in Kennedy's chair. When he landed on it with a thud, he remembered that he'd lowered it earlier. They were about the same height, so Taylor raised it to where it felt comfortable, then put his elbows on the desk and hung his head. _Think think think_. Where else could Kennedy be hiding this shit? A safety deposit box maybe? He'd have Welch look into it. Tilting his head back, he cracked his neck side to side then looked straight ahead.

Something immediately caught his eye on the bookshelf directly across the room from him. Right, smack dab in the middle of the shelf in his line of sight, he noticed a distinct set of books.

Tess of d'Urbervilles.

He _knew_ those books. Getting up, he went to the shelf. He'd been the one to package and hand deliver them to Ana's apartment. There was no mistaking that these weren't just a run of the mill copy of the books. These were the first editions Mr. Grey had him hunt down and purchase for her. He felt unreasonably angry that Kennedy was in possession of something that was supposed to be Ana's, something the boss put a lot of thought into and something she would have cherished. Scott fucking Kennedy did not deserve to have these in his possession.

These books were just calling him to be the thing to let Kennedy know someone had been in his apartment. He'd notice them right away, he'd _have_ to. He'd sit at his desk and look up and see the gap on the shelf and know exactly what was missing. And the fact that it was _those_ books would tell him all he would need to know about who took them. He smiled. It was **perfect**. Then his smile fell.

 _Fuck_.

But what he _didn't_ want to do was take them until he either found the pictures, or felt confident that none existed. Because if he took the books and didn't find the pictures, Kennedy would bolster security on the apartment and make possibly subsequent visits much more difficult.

Reaching for one of the books, he pulled it out, and immediately noticed something was off. He opened the cover, and felt his heart race. A large rectangle, about an inch in from the perimeter of the pages was cut clean out. That fucker had _hollowed out_ one of the **first edition** books! And as furious as it made him that this asshole had ruined a prize possession of Ana's, the thought was fleeting when he saw the white envelope that was pressed into the empty space.

...Could it be? Quickly he checked the other two volumes, but neither seemed to have been tampered with. Only the middle one. If this was images of Ana? That was some real psychopathic shit to destroy something she loved to store them, and place it directly in front of his viewpoint from the chair. Like a trophy, hiding in plain sight. It made Taylor furious. He pulled the envelope from the book, unfolding it and pulling out the contents. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Four SD cards. One USB. And one photo, which he quickly turned over and slid back into the envelope, but not before the image was seared in his brain forever.

After seeing just the one image, he was very reluctant to check the content of everything else, but he knew he had to make sure they actually contained what he thought they did. He went back to the desk, pulling out a laptop he'd brought with so he could check the content of any memory storage devices Kennedy might have been using. First he popped in the USB drive and opened it up, finding a bunch of folders, all labeled by date, and all video files, all dating back to as long as 2006. He muttered out a curse, knowing he was going to have to watch one to see what they were, even though he already knew. He clicked one from 2009, not wanting to see Ana as a child, if he had to see her at all.

The video started with her bound in rope, tied to the giant lattice wood art piece he'd seen on the wall in Kennedy's living room. He groaned before immediately closing the video, ejecting the USB, and putting it back in the envelope with the hard copy photo of her. He did the same thing with the SD cards, checking one photo from each one before closing them out.

Feeling sick to his stomach, he ejected the last one, putting it in the envelope with the rest before folding it back up and sticking in the in secured pocket on the inside of the jacket he was wearing. Then he closed up the Tess book, and put it in his bag with the laptop. He debated grabbing the other two books as well- he wanted to. Kennedy didn't deserve to have them. But this sent a much clearer message. _This one_ being the one missing, let Kennedy know that they knew exactly what they had. That it wasn't about the books, it was about what was inside of this particular one.

Now that he had what he needed, Taylor was quick to make his exit. He checked the peephole in the door for anyone to be in the halls, then slid out quickly and quietly, pulling his neoprene mask off as he did. He exited out the back door, then pulled out his phone and texted Barney, Welch, and Mr. Grey, who were all anxiously waiting back at Grey House for him.

 **I'm done** **.**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: I know. Believe me. I hope it helps to know that I'm already like 1600 words into the next chapter though! But I had to cut this one off here.**

 **Christian POV**

His fist raised, hesitating for a split second before he forced himself to knock on the hotel room door. His gut flipped once, his nerves climbing up his throat, constricting it for a moment. This had to go well. He _needed_ this to go really well tonight. She deserved a perfect evening out, and he wanted to badly to be the one to give it to her.

He had persuaded her to come out to Seattle. First, because he'd had a meeting that he couldn't cancel and it would have greatly hindered his time with her if he'd had to fly out to her so late after the meeting ended. But secondly, he would be far more capable of impressing her here than in a tiny little town like Montesano. He'd wanted to offer her a room in his home, but he had resisted the urge, knowing he didn't want to come off too forward before even getting through the first date. So he'd flown her up here in his private jet and put her up in the Fairmont Olympic for the night. She was given free access to room service, to the spa services, etc. So that's where he was now, standing outside of the door of the Cascade Suite. He'd made sure everything was available to her there, any amenity she could want.

The door opened and there she was, standing there in a floor length, dark blue patterned dress made of some kind of material that flowed gently around her as she moved. Her hair was down and wavy, and she looked even more beautiful that he'd ever remembered her looking before. Or maybe it was just that he hadn't set eyes on her in entirely too long.

She looked up at him, a little smile on her face, but he could see the nerves behind it.

"Hi," he breathed out, hearing the tightness in his own voice.

"Hi," she giggled, and the noise washed over him like a drug kicking in and spreading throughout his body.

"You look beautiful, Ana," he said, unable to help himself as he leaned down and placed a kiss on her cheek. She looked amazing, smelled amazing, was amazing.

"Thanks," she said, blushing lightly while tucking a piece of hair behind her left ear. "And thank you for all this," she said, motioning to the room behind her. "It's too much. Way too much. But I appreciate the thought behind it."

"Nothing is too much for you," he said sincerely. "I would give you the world if I could."

She blushed, then cleared her throat as she reached over, grabbing a little clutch off the end table before stepping out of the doorway, closing it behind her. "I'm not going to lie, I've been kind of nervous all day. Not because of you, but just because of this in general. I've never done this before, you know?"

He felt the heat of anger rise up inside of him. No, she had never had a chance to date before, because Scott fucking Kennedy was a piece of shit who stole her adolescence, her innocence, from her. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. This wasn't the time or place for this anger. He'd spent countless hours completely submerged in a state of fierce anger over this situation, but tonight was going to be light and easy and fun. Not filled with the heaviness that had surrounded their relationship up until this point. He would give her a real first date, one she would be able to look back on fondly for the rest of her life.

"I get it, Ana, but there's no reason to be nervous. I just want to enjoy some drama free one on one time with you. I want to get to know you. The real you. Who you are in here," he said, placing his hand over his own heart.

"I'm still trying to find out exactly who that is myself," she replied with a smile that hinted some sadness. "But I'm happy to share with you what I've learned so far," she finished, her smile turning brighter and more genuine.

He'd led her out to the Bentley he'd rented for Taylor to drive them around in. Sawyer was in the passenger seat. He wasn't taking any chances with security. The one reason he had considered not having Ana come to Seattle was because Kennedy was here, and it made him intensely uncomfortable to have them even in the same city. But ultimately he trusted his security to keep them safe, and he wanted Seattle at his fingertips to show Ana.

He wanted her to be blown away. He wanted desperately to impress her. So he'd put together a date he hoped would do just that. He couldn't risk this going badly, not when this could make or break their future. He wanted her to know he cared, wanted her to know what kind of life was waiting for her with him, what he had to offer the very moment she ever decided to be his, if she would ever do so.

He'd opened the door for her, offered an arm to help her in, and closed the door before rounding the back of the car to sit next to her. In that time, he took a deep breath, trying to even out his newly resurging nerves.

It was a twenty five minute drive to their location. He had a bag waiting in the trunk, filled with a pristinely prepared and expertly packed meal by Gail, an obscenely expensive and rare bottle of wine, and hand dipped chocolate covered berries for dessert. They pulled up to the open area where Ana immediately took in an audible breath at the sight of the huge, multicolored hot air balloon waiting for them. He'd rented out the whole area, so they would be the only ones there. He didn't want to share this, or her, with anyone else. The pilot of the balloon was vetted and signed an NDA, and was given strict instructions to remain as discreet as possible, which included wearing headphones when he wasn't actively playing tour guide to give them privacy. He'd even rented the largest balloon, which normally holds up to fourteen people, just to give them plenty of space.

"I hope you're not afraid of heights," he said, turning to her with a smile.

"A little late if I was, huh?" she said, eyes still on the balloon. His smile faltered just as she turned to him, and she was quick to try and assure him. "I was kidding. I'm not. This is amazing. I'm excited to get up there. I've never been in a hot air balloon before."

He breathed a small sigh of relief, his smile returning before he told her to stay put, then exited the car and came around her side to help her out. Taylor grabbed the food from the trunk and carried it over to the basket, where he handed it off to the pilot who was waiting for them with a smile. The he returned to the car to wait with Sawyer until they returned. He only scheduled the balloon ride for a two hour tour. Enough time for them to enjoy their dinner and each other's company, but not so much time where if she didn't enjoy it that they would be stuck in the air for three or four hours.

Ana's excitement was palpable and contagious as he helped her up the ladder and into the basket. Her cheeks were flushed as she grinned widely, listening to the instructions given to them by the pilot. And in no time, they were ready to take off.

Ana watched the scenery, and Christian watched Ana. They ascended toward the sky, watching the world float away from them in a comfortable silence until they leveled out. Then finally she spoke again.

"This is beautiful, Christian."

"I'm glad you like it," he replied earnestly. _So glad._

They listened to the pilot point out some landmarks, like the foothills of the cascade range to the east and the obviously bustling cityscape of Seattle and it's surrounding areas to the west. They talked about everything from the beautiful sights to themselves for about forty-five minutes, at which time Christian suggested for them to eat.

Ana helped him unfold and lay down a blanket, while Christian began to unpack the food. Gail had gone through a sushi phase, in which Christian had arranged and paid for her to have a lesson from Seattle's top sushi chef to learn how to prepare it herself. She'd been absolutely ecstatic about it personally, but truth be told, it greatly benefited him too since she liked to roll fresh sushi for him now. At least he'd had the foresight to check to see if she liked sushi first, unlike checking to see if she has a fear of heights.

He opened the containers and sauces that Gail had packed, then pulled out two pairs of expensive, authentic chopsticks he'd gotten from his last business trip to Tokyo, handing one to Ana. He opened the eight thousand dollar bottle of German riesling that he'd gotten for tonight, pouring each of them a glass and handing Ana hers.

"Thank you," she said, taking a quick sip then licking her lips. "This all looks so delicious. I don't know what to try first."

"It's all amazing," he admitted, knowing he'd previously tried everything here at one point or another when Gail had made it. He pointed out the different options- tuna, salmon, eel, and what was with them, on them, and what sauces there were to try. They dug in, sharing everything, even bites off each others pieces so she could try different combinations and sauces.

The meal had been light and easy. They'd spent the time discussing things that were nice and normal. Ana talked to Christian about her young childhood, good memories, omitting the entirety of her mid to late teens and early adulthood. He got to know who she was before, and hear about the things she'd been doing since she moved back to Montesano. He learned about her love of fishing, and how she and Ray had already been out on the water. She learned that was a mutual love of theirs, and they were already discussing future plans to go out on a fishing excursion on his boat one day, Ray included.

It was nice to be able to ask her questions open and honestly for once, instead of always feeling like he was going to push her away by prodding too much, looking desperate for information. He told her about his childhood, his wild phase in high school, about college at Harvard. He worried maybe the topic of his mainstream adolescence would upset her, but she just seemed purely interested, even asking lots of follow up questions about what it was like to be in school. She seemed excited more than anything. Like she was just focusing on the future, not on her past, and he found himself ever more impressed with her strength. He admired her, everything about her. She was the most intriguing person he'd ever met, and he'd met a great deal of impressive people in his line of work.

They finished up their meals, Ana declining a second glass of wine, joking that she was a lightweight and didn't want to do anything to embarrass herself, especially with nowhere to hide in a hot air balloon basket.

She scooted to the edge of the basket, looking down at the earth below them. He saw a shiver run through her, and was quick to remove his jacket and place it over her, his hands cupping the rounds of her shoulders. She didn't seemed to mind, in fact, she swayed against him, resting her back against his front gently. She looked back over her shoulder with a sweet smile and a quiet thank you. His arms slipped down, trapping her body against him and the edge of the basket, and she automatically nestled against his body between his biceps. They finished the rest of the ride watching the world below them, engaging in more small talk until it was time for them to descend back to the ground.

When they were safely back on solid ground, Christian exited the basket first so he could help Ana down since she had to navigate her floor length dress. Which proved to have been the right choice as she stepped on the back of it and nearly slipped off the top rung. Luckily for her, he was right there. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her easily, setting her gently and safely on the ground.

"My hero," she laughed, looking up at him with a glimmering laughter in her eyes.

In that moment he wanted to kiss her so badly. But he wasn't sure if he should or not.

He didn't have to wonder for long though, as she pushed up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. His grip around her tightened as his lips loosened, and gently they kissed for a few moments before they pulled away.

"Well, Mr. Grey," she said as they turned and began walking back toward the idling car with Taylor at the helm and Sawyer sitting shotgun. "I must say this is the best first date I've ever been on."

"I'm glad, Miss Steele," he gazed down at her, sending her a playful wink, knowing the unspoken joke that she'd never done this before. "It has been for me as well. Truth be told, I'm not ready for it to end."

"It doesn't have to," she was quick to respond.

He couldn't help where his thoughts went next, images flashing through his mind's eye of him taking her back to her hotel or to his place and absolutely ravaging her.

"Coffee," she said, an amused tone to her voice that pulled him from his thoughts. The look on her face told him that where his mind had wandered had been obvious, and he shrugged unapologetically.

"Taylor would have to check a place out first," Christian started to think out loud.

"Or we can just go back to the hotel," she offered. This time he was giving her the look, his eyebrow cocked and a little smirk playing on his lips. "For convenience sake," she said with a grin as the walked toward the car.

"Well who can say no to an invitation like that?" he said, helping her into the back of the car before getting in himself.

"Where to, Mr. Grey?" Taylor asked.

"Ana's hotel, please."

 **Scott POV**

He'd lost her.

All the years he'd had her, all the years that every move he made with her worked seamlessly, fit into place like a puzzle, and now? Now he'd _lost her_.

He'd managed to successfully lure her in, keep her father from finding out, keep her out of college, move her out of his house, and keep her wanting and waiting diligently under his thumb while he built GHI. He'd done ALL of it, for years, and now?

He'd lost her.

Fuck Grey Enterprise Holdings. Fuck all the money he'd made with this deal. Fuck the notoriety, fuck the strides they'd made in the technology he loved, and FUCK Christian fucking Grey.

If he could go back and stay simple with GHI, not merge with GEH, he'd do it in a heartbeat. Because then he'd still have her. She'd be his, and that would be enough.

He wasn't sure where she was, and he couldn't risk looking into it. The only place he could imagine she might be was with her dad, which, as much as he fucking hated the idea, wasn't even as bad as her being with Grey. So if that's where she was, he could live with it for now. Until he could find a way to get her back. Steele had been oblivious to her doings before. And that's when he was responsible for her. Now she was an adult. If he could get to her, draw her back in, there'd be nothing Steele could do about it, even if he saw it coming this time.

Rubbing his hands over his face, he grunted. Get her back…. How? How was he going to manage to pull that off? He'd been mulling over possibilities, but so far he was at a loss. He had a feeling that whatever had happened between she and Grey that kept them apart, Grey would still be watching out of her. If for no other reason that to spite him. So however he was going to do this, he needed to do it under Grey's radar.

He never realized how much he needed what Ana provided until she was gone. The sex was just the tip of the iceberg, and although definitely missed, this was all so much more than that. He needed to dominate her in order to be in control in all aspects of his life. He'd taken the fact that she was just there for granted for years now. He needed her back. His fingers longed to itched to touch her. His mind longed to control her.

He'd even taken to occasionally watching old videos of them just to feel that connection again. He would watch himself controlling her, close his eyes, and imagine she was in front of him, imagine she was doing every little thing he desired, only when he allowed her to do it. He imagined her satisfying his mental and physical needs with her submission.

A notifications sounded on his laptop, pulling his attention away from the mental images of Ana. Clicking on the Google alert, he found the one thing he'd anticipated seeing, the reason he set up this stupid fucking Google alert to begin with. He'd had to verify every single time his name splashed across a new article about this or that, just to make sure he knew about it the moment _this_ happened. And it was finally happening.

 **Seattle's Most Eligible Bachelor Seen Entering Hotel with Mystery Brunette (Photos)**

He clicked through them, and there she was in a series of five images, her hand clasped in _his_ , both smiling as they scurried in the front entranced at the Fairmont Olympic. He knew that it was only a matter of time before this happened, before the two of them saw each other again, and were seen out in public. But the fact that he'd anticipated it did nothing to quell the fierce anger he felt at actually seeing it play out. And not just something innocent, not just pictures of them out to dinner, but pictures of them entering a hotel together.

He'd expected it, but still, her being around Grey was a serious complication. Because if she was around him, and he was around his security, as he always was, that made it harder for him to get to her. It wasn't a deterrent though. He would still find a way. He would just have to finesse the plans a little bit more.

Someday. Someday she would be his again… For now, he would again utilize the closest thing he had to her.

Standing up from his desk, he scrolled through the mental rolodex of various scenes he'd filmed, trying to pick one to play out this evening.

There was a really good, one of him really testing a few of her soft limits that he really enjoyed, so he decided to go with that one. He visibly smirked, as he glanced at the shelf where he kept the book, that damn Tess book that that cocky prick Grey had given her, the one he'd very much enjoyed gutting and ruining.

The one that was very conspicuously missing from the shelf.

His mind raced with possibilities. Not who. He knew _who_. But when. And how. And what did _he_ plan to do with them?

A new surge of instantaneous anger hit him like a tsunami and before he could think better, he pushed both hands behind the giant bookcase and pushed, sending the whole thing to the ground with an ear splitting crash.

It made him feel better, but only for a moment, then his mind was racing again. He had little option left at this point. Grey was clearly trying to exert his authority here, trying to show he was the alpha, the one in control. But there was no way in hell Scott Kennedy was going down without a fight.


	26. Chapter 26

**Ana**

She woke up on the plush mattress of the hotel bed, but she knew she immediately she wasn't alone. She was so comfortable, so completely content in this moment, that at any other time she would have kept her eyes closed and cuddled back into the covers and gone back to sleep. But today, she forced herself to pry her eyes open in order to take in the view of the beautiful man she could hear softly breathing next to her. And she wasn't disappointed.

She let her eyes take in every detail of his handsome face. Sleeping next to a man like this was totally new to her. She and Scott had shared a bed countless times, but never like this. Never with this level of ease. If she awoke before him, there were expectations. She'd have to get up quickly, because she was expected to have breakfast made, or she'd be expected to take care of his morning erection, giving him oral until he woke up and took control. Or sometimes he told her he expected her on her knees at the side of the bed when he woke up.

Last night with Christian had been perfect. The planned date was amazing, more than she could have ever expected, or hoped or dreamed of. Then the improvised part, where she invited him back to the hotel, it had been just as amazing. Things with Christian were just easy. He was a very genuine person. He seemed legitimately interested in everything she had to say, even when it seemed like boring chatter to her.

They'd had coffee, which had turned into a bottle of wine, which she was more willing to drink once they were safely ensconced in her hotel room. They'd indulged a little, but nothing over the top. And they'd just talked. They talked and talked about anything and everything, and it was all so nice.

And they'd kissed.

More than kissed, they'd _made out_. Like teenagers, they'd made out on the sofa in the sitting area. And it had been thrilling and explosive in a way she'd ever experienced before. She would be lying if she said she hadn't enjoyed certain things, _many_ things with Scott over the years. Because she had. But not in this way. With Scott, there had been reverence, there had been trust and a deep desire to please. But with Christian, the emotions were completely new. This wasn't about simply pleasing him, about making him happy. It was about _them_. It was about the two of them coming together to be something new. And that was exciting for her.

"You're so beautiful." His rough voice, scratchy with sleep, pulled her back to the moment. His eyes were barely open, his lids still hooded, his darker than normal grays roaming her face.

She blushed. "How'd you sleep?"

"Like the dead," he said with a lazy smile.

"Good," she whispered as she shifted to face him fully. "Me too. Probably the alcohol."

"Or the comfort of the company," he said, trailing a fingertip down her cheek, across the edge of her jaw.

"That too," she agreed.

She wasn't sure who made the first move, if it was her or him or just both of them together, but in an instant they were wrapped up in each other's arms again, exchanging rough, fierce kisses. It was different than last night, less deliberate, more urgent.

Last night she'd been okay with just kissing. Last night she'd welcomed the chance to experience something new, something sexual she hadn't done before, and more specifically, to do that with Christian. Her sexual experiences had come about so abnormally, that she found it exciting to do things the way normal people did them. And doing something innocent like making out with someone seemed sweet and fun.

But that was last night. This morning? This morning she _wanted_ him. This morning she felt less like the sweet Ana from yesterday and more like the sex-hungry woman she'd been plenty of times in her past. This morning she wanted to climb on top of this beautiful man and ride him until they both screamed. And she was pretty sure the way she was kissing him clearly indicated how she was feeling. Especially when she nipped his lower lip, causing him to release a sexy growl from deep in his chest. Because that was when he rolled her on her back, settled himself between her legs, and things escalated.

The feeling of his pelvis pressed against hers only served to heighten her desire. She felt her body respond, her own pelvis tilting to seek firmer contact, her back arching as her breast sought out his attention. She'd removed her bra when she'd changed into her pajamas last night, and she could feel her nipples straining against the soft cotton of her t-shirt. She felt Christian's hand on her hip, gripping tightly, two of his fingers slipping between the gap of her shirt and her shorts. His lips trailed down to her neck and she was quick to tilt her head back and allow him full access, feeling herself become wet as he left tender, sucking kisses across her skin.

"Christian," she moaned out just as she felt his hand fully breech the lower hem of her shirt, his fingers lazily trailing along her belly. Reaching between them, she tugged the shirt up, just high enough to expose her chest, without having to make him move off of her to get it up over her head.

He groaned as his eyes dropped to her newly exposed skin. And he wasted no time covering one breast with a strong hand, the wrapping his lips around the nipple of the other. He played both nipples in time with each other, his tongue laving and circling while his fingers caressed.

"Oh God," she sighed, savoring the feeling of his mouth on her. It had been too long since she'd had an orgasm that wasn't given by her own hand, and she missed the feeling of someone else bringing her to those heights. She was so used to having sex very regularly, ever since she'd lost her virginity. This 'dry spell', while essential for her mind's well being, had been wreaking havoc on her libido. She felt like she could quite possibly come just from his attention to her breasts alone, and probably fairly quickly.

But then… his hips started moving, and everything went fuzzy. She could feel the size of him press against her, grinding _just right_ between her thighs, and she laid back and let him drive her to the heights she was seeking.

She felt his mouth leave her nipple, his cool breath slowly blowing over the wet bud before his mouth moved to her ear. "Are you going to come for me, Anastasia?"

"Yes," she confirmed confidently as his tongue barely brushed the very tip of her opposite nipple now.

"Where do you want my mouth when you come?" he asked, causing her to look down at his lips as images of where they could go flashed through her mind. "Do you want it here?" he asked, pressing a kiss to her lips. "Here?" he asked, pressing a kiss to her nipple. "Here?" he asked, grinding his hips against hers.

"Mmm," she moaned, and watched the grin spread across those beautiful lips.

"Is that a yes?"

"Mmhm," she sighed.

"You're going to have to say it, Ana. Do you want to come with my lips on your lips? On your nipple? Or do you want to come with my lips on your pretty little pussy? Wrapped around your clit maybe? Or with my tongue flicking against it? Over and over until your thighs shake and you're so close you're ready to cry?"

"Oh my God," she whispered, exhilarated by the idea of getting to choose what _she_ wanted. "My pussy," she confirmed unabashedly. "I want your mouth between my legs. I want to come on your tongue, while you fuck me slowly with your fingers."

He growled as he heaved his body away from hers and slid down the bed, his hands dragging down her sides, taking the waistband of her shorts with their descent and dragging them down her legs.

"Spred those legs wide for me, baby," he ordered, pulling his own t-shirt over his head as he watched her quickly separate her thighs, planting her heels into the mattress about four feet apart. She knew she was already plenty wet, but that didn't stop her from becoming even more so as when she saw the look he gave her when his eyes landed where she'd fully displayed herself for him.

"Please," she begged, and he immediately responded, swooping down and giving her exactly what she'd was craving.

God, he really knew what to do with that tongue. It was so hot, to watch this beautiful man as he worked to bring her to orgasm. Adjusting her pillow, she tilted her head to she could watch him work. And then, because she _could_ , she reach down between her legs and ran her fingers through his hair, threading and gripping, tugging at the strands until he looked up at her, watching her watch him.

It didn't take long after that. Once those gray eyes locked on hers, she's a was a goner. Her body rode the high of not only her orgasm, but this whole situation. Of her, and Christian, and sex based off of impromptu, mutual desire.

"That was much better than last time," Christian hummed, still between her legs, placing feather light kisses across her inner thighs, causing a giggle to erupt from her throat. She automatically clamped her thighs around his head in order to stop him, and laughed when she looked down to see him trapped, cheeks slightly squished at her looked back up at her. She could see the smile in his eyes. She released his head, and he slid back up her body, resting his weight half on her as he placed a kiss on her lips and brushed a few stray hairs from her face.

He was right, though. This time was completely different from last time.

"Thank you for being so patient and understanding with me. For being able to look past the hurtful things I've done to give me another chance," she said.

"I'd do anything to make this work with you, Ana. I don't hold any of that stuff against you. I don't even think about it. I just want us to move forward. Together."

"I want that too," she smiled, "But that's not the only thing I want."

"Mmm, and what else do you want baby?" he asked, the combination of his huskier voice and the pet name causing a rush of desire to course through her again.

Pressing her palm against his chest, she pushed him, rolling with the momentum until she was straddling his waist. She scooted down his body, touching her lips to his sternum.

"I've heard the proper etiquette is to 'return the favor' when someone gives you an orgasm," she joked, but immediately felt him lift her chin to make eye contact, and his smile was gone.

"I don't expect anything from you, Ana. Ever. Never feel you have to…" he trailed off, "Because you think I expect it from you."

"I know," she said. "I was just being playful, Christian. I know you would never force me to do anything, or expect anything from me I wasn't willing to do. I _want_ to do this, I promise."

He nodded although seemingly distracted as he watched her descend his body, tugging his boxers down as she went.

And she did want this. Because she loved sex. That was part of what made all of this so strange. She loved sex. But she'd never been free to moan and talk and touch. Scott had always told her that having to control herself, having to hold still and absorb the pleasure would make everything more intense. For all she'd been taught about 'control', she'd never once actually been _in_ control of the sex she'd had. So her sexual experience had made her sort of an anomaly. One part of her was so 100% comfortable with sex, having been exposed to it the way she was coupled with all the things she'd experienced over the years, that she could talk about the dirtiest things without blushing. But another part of her felt like a virgin to all of this. So while she knew exactly where and how she wanted things, she also felt completely out of her element getting them simply because _she_ wanted it.

She continued, "I want this with _you_."

She wasted no more time, sheathing him with her mouth, pushing back the gag reflex she'd long since learned to tame, and taking him straight into her throat. She looked up at him, watching his eyes roll back in his head as he dropped back onto the bed and let out a loud groan.

"Jesus Christ, Ana," he moaned, weaving his fingers in her hair. but letting her control the pace.

Blowjobs were something she'd given a million times before, and she had her technique down to a science. She kept expecting his grip to tighten, to forced her head up and down at a pace of his liking, or for him to hold her head still and fuck her mouth, but he never did. She almost wished her would, so she would know what exactly it was that he wanted, but then again, if his reaction was any indication, he wanted exactly what she was already doing at the moment.

She kept working his length, cupping and lightly tugging his testicles as she sucked. She watched the way his abdominal muscles clenched and unclenched, his hips making tiny thrusts forward, his eyes closed and mouth open. Swiping her finger along the base of his cock, she collecting some of the saliva that had pooled there, then gently dragged her finger down, back behind his testicles. She waited until his breathing sped up to just the right pace, his moans were at just the right pitch, then she used firm, even pressure, and pressed that wet finger inside of his body.

" **Fuck**!" he scream, his eyes flying open in confusion chased by what looked like... _panic_. His fingers tightening in her hair and he tugged, like he was trying to get her off of him. Oh god, had she hurt him? She didn't know how she could have… Quickly she tried to dispel whatever unpleasant feeling she'd inadvertently caused by pumping her finger against his prostate.

And the next thing she knew, he was letting out a loooong drawn out moan and pushing her head back down and his cock deep into the back of her throat. _Perfect._

"Oh my God, Ana," he grunted, "Fuck… Shit. Holy... fucking shit," he was gasping and moaning in a way she'd never seen before, and then she felt the telltale sign that he was about to come, the way his already impressive cock grew just a little bit firmer and his testicles tightened. She felt the self-satisfaction spread through her as his semen hit the back of her throat in three strong spurts. She swallowed him down, giving him a moment before she dared to pull off of him. When she felt his body start to relax, she dragged her mouth slowly off of him, collecting any remaining evidence of his orgasm and her spit and swallowing it down. She watched his breathing, and on an exhale, she gently eased her finger out of him, watching him just lay there with an arm slung over his eyes as he breathed slightly labored but steadily in and out. She sat back on her haunches and waited for him to say something.

"Ana?" he asked, his arm still covering his eyes.

"Yes?" she asked, eager for feedback.

"Did you put your finger in my ass?"

She brought her hands together to nervously wring her fingers together. Was that not something everyone did? Scott always liked a finger in his ass to finish a blowjob. He never led her to believe it was anything abnormal. She hadn't even considered Christian might not... "Um… yes?"

He nodded slightly but stayed silent, his arm still over his eyes, and she dropped her head. He couldn't even look at her. God, she'd fucked this up already. She felt the embarrassment wash over her and she buried her face in her hands. She hadn't hurt him… She'd completely blindsided him! He really _was_ trying to actually pull away from her. She felt him shift below her, but she couldn't bear to look at him.

"Ana?" he said, his voice low, and she could tell he was sitting up and directly in front of her face right now.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice filled with remorse.

"Ana, look at me."

She shook her head no.

" _Ana_ ," he demanded, gripping her forearms and pulling her hands away from her face. He tried to catch her eye but she refused. "I'm not going to lie and pretend like that didn't totally catch me by surprise," he admitted. "But it was also the best blow job I've ever received."

"Really?" she asked shyly, finally looking at him, trying to gauge if he was just trying to spare her feelings.

"Well you swallowed the evidence, so I have no proof but…" he smirked, and she let out a giggle at his lame attempt to cheer her up that made a full blown smile grow on his face.

His smile slowly faded and he grew serious. "There's going to be a learning curve here, Ana. For both of us. I know nothing about probably 85% of the things you've experienced sexually, and I'm sure there's a lot you could teach me that I would enjoy. I want to experience new things with you. I never want you to feel embarrassed or ashamed of things that turn you on, thinking I might think less of you if you want me to do them. As long as I go into it knowing you _want_ them, then anything is fair game. You obviously enjoyed aspects of that lifestyle, right?" She bit her lip and nodded. "And that's okay. If you still want to be… to be tied up or spanked or whatever, I'm more than happy to do those things with you." His eyes darkened at his own words and she felt herself get wet at the mere idea of Christian tying her up and fucking her hard, or spanking her, or using toys on her. He was right, she did love many things the lifestyle had introduced to her.

"And in turn," he continued, his voice low and filled with desire, "I think I have things I could teach you too. To experience more than just _sex_. To experience _being cared for_. To experience _feelings_. To experience…."

"Love?" she asked, unable to keep the lilt of hope out of her voice.

"Yes," he said, his eyes softening. "Do you want me to make love to you, Ana?"

"Yes, please," she whispered on an exhale.

He embraced her, wrapping his arms tightly around her and kissed her deeply. Keeping his left wrapped around her back, he used the right to traced down her spine, cupping her ass and leading her up onto his lap. She moved at his urging, straddling his thighs.

"I've dreamed of what it would be like to be inside of you so many times, Ana," he softly spoke in her ear as he held her close. "I've imagined it finally happening in so many different ways. Maybe a quick and explosive tryst in the office, maybe running into you outside of work and taking you home to fuck you within an inch of your life, even you showing up at my place and confessing feelings and us making slow love. I pictured it a million times, a million ways, but nothing compares to the reality. Simply because this IS reality, whereas all of those other things were just fantasy. I honestly can hardly believe you're really here and this is really happening."

She smiled, pulling herself up a little bit in order to angle her body against his. And with her eyes firmly locked on his, she lined her body up, then rested it slowly back down, enveloping his length as she settled back onto his lap. His hands gripped her hips as he tugged her down onto him, pushing himself up even further, hitting a spot inside of her that immediately released a moan from her lips.

They sat like that for a moment, both just absorbing the pleasure and intensity of the moment where they finally were together in the most intimate way possible. And when she could no longer take having him inside of her but not moving, she began to slowly swivel her hips, grinding on him until he moaned for her the way she had for him.

Christian's hands moved up, one holding the side of her neck and one cupping her head as he let her control the pace of their lovemaking. He brought her lips to his kissing her deeply, making love to her mouth in time with bodies. She felt new feelings coursing through her as she let the emotional and physical combine in an all consuming way. She let her hands roam his strong, sculpted body- his abdomen, his chest, his biceps and shoulders. The feel of his hard muscles under her hands was turning her on as much as anything.

But then she felt her need take a turn. She felt the desire to be in control dwindle and the much more familiar desire to submit take root. She felt herself yearning to feel the weight of him on her. Wanting to feel his strength and size covering her small frame. Wanting to cede control to him and let him bring them to mutual mind shattering orgasms.

So she slowed her movements, and felt the slight heat of blush on her cheeks as she asked for what she really wanted. "Would you mind if, um…"

"If what?" Christian asked.

"I'd like you to be in charge."

And true to their discussion minutes ago, he didn't ask questions, didn't ruin the moment by making her assure him it was what she wanted. He'd told her she should feel unashamed to admit what she wanted from him, and he was proving to her that she could do that here and now.

With the grace and confidence she'd grown to expect from him, he maneuvered them around, laying her gently down on her back, following behind her so they stayed close together until he was pressing her back into the bed below him.

She spread her legs wide for him, an open invitation to continue where they'd left off.

He made her wait for it though, pressing kisses to her jaw, neck and chest, before taking a nipple between his lips and tugging it gently. She felt oddly content at the familiar feeling of wanting something, yet not getting it because she knew he was pleased doing what he desired, so she resisted urging him further. She just enjoyed as he trailed back up to her lips, taking them in a possessive kiss as she felt his hand trail down her hip and in between her thighs. She groaned when she felt his strong fingers put pressure on her clit.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered in her ear. "I want you so much, Ana."

His lips pressed to hers again as he finally pushed his length back inside of her, once again making her feel complete in a way she hadn't sexually before.

He consumed her with his body, just as she'd hoped. He positioned himself in such a way that he was using her body as leverage against herself, holding her tightly around her head and shoulders, pushing her down against him as he rocked up into her. She'd secretly worried vanilla sex meant slow and soft- boring. But he was pushing into her with deep, hard strokes that felt like they took her breath away each and every time.

It didn't take long for the sensations to build her up, higher and higher. She grabbed onto the back of his neck, pulling his mouth to hers, kissing him desperately as she felt her body start to teeter over the edge.

"That's it, baby," he mumbled into her kisses, his pace picking up to drive her over the edge. "Come on my cock, Ana. Come on my cock while I come deep in your tight little pussy."

She moaned, unable to form any actual words, but spurred on by his own.

She could feel him closing in on his own orgasm, feel his cock swell and fill her that much more, his rhythm becoming just slightly more erratic as he chased his own high.

The idea of him coming in her excited her. She couldn't help but relate it with a sense of ownership due to the fact that that idea had been reiterated to her countless times over the years. Christian would be only the second man to stake that claim on her, and she couldn't deny that due to her submissive nature, the idea of being owned by him was thrilling.

"Tell me I'm yours," she begged softly, wanting to her him verbally claim her while doing so physically.

"Oh Ana," he said with a low chuckle. "You. Are. Fucking. Mine."

Punctuating the words with his thrusts, she came as the last one left his mouth, groaning long and loudly as her whole body combusted underneath his.

She felt him follow suit moment later, pumping his semen into her as he moaned above her. She watched him wantonly, wanting to take in the sight of this beautiful man coming for her.

They laid like that for a minute as they both caught their breaths, then he placed a few teasing kisses on her face and neck, grinning, then got up to use the washroom.

She stayed in the bed, lying there in the rumpled sheets, reveling in the moment, in the fact that she was covered in his scent, his sweat, filled with him, owned by him.

Owned.

She felt the internal conflict kick in. The guilt.

She's spent all this time trying to gain independence after being dependent on Scott for so long. It was the main reason she'd wanted to take things slow with Christian. Because sex with him could prove dangerous to her mental rehabilitation. But having him in her bed this morning had clouded all reason. She'd been without sex for so long, had wanted him for so long, and finally had him all to herself after a truly wonderful, romantic first date. It had been so easy to give in to her more primal urges this morning.

But now, a part of her felt like it was a huge step backward in all the work she'd done these last weeks. The sex had started out so differently than it had finished. In the beginning she'd felt strong and confident and free, but by the end she'd reverted back to old habits of wanting to be dominated and owned. To be this deeply pleased at being claimed by another man couldn't be healthy.

But she couldn't deny that she simple _was_ pleased. This was the most emotional contentment she'd felt in months- since before the move to Seattle with Scott, when their relationship started to go downhill. Belonging to Christian was something she wanted, needed even. And while, in her mind, she knew this was something that made her feel whole, and happy, felt like the final missing piece that she'd been searching for since she moved on from Scott, she wasn't sure it was _healthy_. She'd been perfectly happy and content with Scott for years as well. That didn't mean it was _healthy_.

Was her contentment due to belonging to Christian himself, or just the feeling of belonging to a man again altogether? She was pretty sure it was specifically Christian. But her guilt at feeling this way had her second guessing herself. Rubbing a hand over her forehead, she resigned to make an appointment with her therapist to discuss all of this. To find out if she'd regressed emotionally by allowed Christian to consume her the way he had. Or if it was okay to allow him that place in her life since she was someone she cared for and trusted. At least she knew one thing for sure- he was deserving of her care and trust. And she hoped her therapist would tell her that that was the difference maker here. This wasn't some random one night stand she'd given herself up to physically and mentally. This was the man that had saved her. The man who had proved himself worthy of her trust over and over and over again.

The man she loved.

.


	27. Chapter 27

**Ana POV**

Ana frowned.

"But you're the one who encouraged me to just go out there and live my life for once. You told me to do things that make me happy. And being with Christian makes me happy."

"I never said you shouldn't be with him. You asked for my opinion, and my opinion is that it is probably too soon for you to be sleeping with him."

" _Sleeping_ with him makes me happy too," she replied petulantly under her breath, though still audible.

"I don't doubt that, Ana. I'm not trying to sex-shame you here. You're an adult woman, and as such, under normal circumstances, need no other reason other than simple desire to decide to engage in intercourse with another person. However, these are not normal circumstances. You're coming off a relationship that used sex as a tool of manipulation. I just want to make sure you understand fully where your head is when you try and make connections with people physically. I worry you might not be emotionally matured enough for sex, especially since Christian represents more than just sex for you. There are feelings involved on both sides. I don't want to see you get hurt, or incur the guilt of hurting Christian, just because you jumped into something you weren't fully prepared for.

"I personally would have liked to see you spend a little more one on one time with him before taking this step. We have a lot of things from your past with Scott that have yet to be worked out in therapy. I would have liked to see you continue to work on some of those things, find your footing a little more solidly in the real world, and build upon your emotional relationship with Christian before taking the step to become intimate. Having Christian for support has been integral to your healing so far, and I don't want you to put that at risk. But I also want to make sure you're completely reliant on **you** before you jump head first into a relationship with another man."

Ana sighed, but dutifully nodded along as Dr. Whoever spoke. She knew she still had a way to go in therapy. You can't just wipe seven years of physical, mental, and emotional abuse away in a few short months. She knew she had a lot of work to do on herself still, regardless of how far she'd come, and she definitely didn't want to hinder or halt her progress. But the pull to be with Christian was so strong, she also wasn't sure it was something she could fight. He felt right. He felt safe. And she wanted to continue to work and fight and grow _with_ him.

"However," Dr. Whoever said, pulling her back from her thoughts. "This is your life and you will make the decisions you feel are best for you. And if being with Christian is a decision you are going to make, I just ask that you take time to continually reaffirm to yourself why it is that you're doing what you're doing. Ask yourself the questions we've discussed in previous sessions to help you weed out your true feelings from those that pull you back into your previous comfort zones of isolation. ' **Why** do you want to do whatever it is you're thinking of doing? **How** will it affect the life you're trying to build for yourself? **Who** are you doing said action _for_? **What** are the possible positive and negative outcomes of performing said action?' You need to ask yourself these things _every time_ in order to make sure the decisions you're making are in your best interest and no one else's. Did you ask yourself these questions before sleeping with Christian?"

Slowly Ana shook her head. She'd acted on instinct alone that night with Christian. Stopping to think about every decision you make was hard. Real life didn't work like that. Sure, it worked on things like applying to college and deciding where to move, but those were logic based decisions. It wasn't human nature to stop to make a pros and cons list of whether to say yes or no to Christian Grey when he's asking if you want to come in his mouth. Plus, how was she supposed to know all the possible outcomes of every action? Huffing out an exasperated breath, she crossed her arms and avoided eye contact with Dr. Whoever.

"I'm not trying to trample on your happiness, Ana. I just want you to continue to build up your confidence in yourself and your ability to make decisions. You coming here and asking me if you made the right decision shows you're still not very confident in yourself to make the best choices regarding your personal life. You were very confident in your decision to go back to school, live on your own, and chase the dream of the life you never got to live. But you're here, asking me if it's okay that you had sex with Christian. You're never going to be one hundred percent sure about every decision you make; that's not how the real world works. But at this moment in time, while we work on building your strength and independence, I'd like you to just be a little more cautious about what decisions you make that are based solely on emotion. Those are the ones that can be detrimental to you right now. Do you understand where I'm coming from?"

"Yes," Ana sighed. "I get it. It makes sense." And it did. She had hoped to come in here and have Dr. Whoever tell her it was perfectly fine that she'd slept with Christian because he was worthy of her time and trust. But she should have known better. On some level, she guessed she _had_ known better. That's why she had to come ask. It had nothing to do with Christian specifically. **He** _was_ worthy of her trust. But she was still working on being worthy of her **own** trust.

"Now, all that being said, Ana," Dr. Whoever said, "Assuming things continue smoothly along the path we've been forging, don't stress yourself out about wanting to be at least somewhat submissive in bed." Ana perked up, making eye contact with the doctor again for the first time since the session had started. "Maybe that is simply what you prefer sexually, which is perfectly normal and acceptable. Or maybe it will just take you some time to gain the confidence to feel comfortable not maintaining that role in bed, which is another reason waiting for sex might be for the best. But ultimately, as long as what you're doing is safe and consensual and _you_ feel comfortable doing it, there's no reason for you to worry about crossing paths between your old sexual habits and your new. From what you described of your night together, it was nothing like any experience you've shared with Scott. You're not _submitting_ to Christian's will. He's not **dominating** you. And as long as you ask yourself the questions we've discussed and come up with an answer that proves you're taking a more submissive role because it's what you enjoy, then it is perfectly fine to do that. To avoid what you enjoy sexually simply because it was stuff you did with Scott isn't a good idea. Doing what you want because you want it, as long as it's done in a healthy, consensual way, is perfectly fine."

 **Scott PoV**

Christian Grey had underestimated him. That wasn't his first mistake- no, that was even daring to look at Ana too long the first time they were introduced in his office. And he'd made a million more mistakes since, from continuing to pursue Ana, actually _touching_ was was **his,** to breaking into Scott's apartment and taking his personal belongings. All of those were mistakes, ones he would come to regret, but underestimating Scott was his _biggest_ mistake. Because Scott Kennedy wasn't some weak, ignorant, regular jerk off. He was intelligent. He was intuitive. And he was a fighter.

Scott knew he was being tailed. Of course he was being tailed. But did Grey really think he wouldn't notice? Or couldn't find a way to elude his tail when the time came? He'd let that prick track him everywhere for weeks, following him to work, to home, to the grocery store and everywhere in between. He'd set up a consistent routine, to hopefully lure whoever was watching him into a false sense of confidence about their knowledge of him. If they thought they knew his routine like clockwork, they would fall into a comfort zone and become less vigilant. He let them think he was oblivious to their existence, so when the time came they'd have no reason to suspect he'd skipped out on them on purpose.

He'd been planning this meticulously, and it all centered around the gym. He'd been going for weeks, always on foot, so when the big day came, his car still being in the parking lot wasn't a give away. He varied up his time spent there, so they wouldn't come to expect him out at a certain time interval every time he went. Sometimes he'd leave after a half hour, sometimes an hour and a half. He knew a back exit he could get out of, one that claimed to be alarmed but he'd disabled. He expected them to suspect he was just in there for a lengthier session, and whenever they finally did decide to check for him only to find him missing, they'd suspect they just missed him leave.

All these things were done in hopes of buying him more time when the day came when he would need it. They'd think they just missed him somehow, not that he'd intentionally dodged them. They'd be more likely to wait to inform their boss that they'd lost him, thinking they could just find him first, rather than face the wrath of that fucker Jason Taylor. By the time they might suspect he'd done everything intentionally, it would hopefully be too late.

With that part of his plan already in motion, he often sat at his desk, fueling his anger by glancing up at the empty space in his bookshelf, while he devised a plan to mentally get to Ana.

He knew her. He knew every little inch of her mind, and he knew if he could just get her alone, he could reinforce everything he'd taught her in the past, reinforce every idea he'd ever put in her head and get her back. He knew exactly what tender parts to touch in her fragile mind to halt any independent thinking she'd been doing and bring her back to heel.

He just needed to be alone with her. Get her mind back on track, then immediately consume her body. He would bring her close again, and once he had her, he would never give her so much leash again. He'd move them away and keep her on lockdown. No more work. No more people to influence her. Just him. All the time. Only ever him. She'd been happy with him for years. She could be happy with him again. And once she was, he'd make sure to perpetually keep her there forever.

Losing his tail was one thing, but the chances of him dodging his own and then being able to sneak past hers was slim at best. Therefore, he figured the best course of action would be to evade his, then get to a location she'd eventually end up. Then he could take her by surprise. He didn't want to hurt anyone. Murder was never something he wanted to be a part of. Not to mention the fact that it would complicate things. If he could get to Ana, he was sure he could get into her mind again, bring her back to heel. And once he had her, there would be nothing Grey could do about it- she was an adult after all. But if he hurt someone, assaulted them, or worse, he would be susceptible to punishment. He didn't want to end up in jail. He just wanted to fade away with Ana in tow. Sell his company, take the cash and his girl, and go somewhere Grey wouldn't think to look. Out of the country probably.

So that was how he spent his free time now, planning the details of where he could get to her, and where he would take her once he got her. It was hard to try and come up with anything concrete since he couldn't very well follow her around, get to know her routine, or even visit where she lived. That would raise too much suspicion with whoever was watching him.

So everything he had to work with was all due to some deep research he was able to accomplish online. He spent so much time building his business over the years that he hadn't spent as much time as he'd have liked honing his tech skills. But once upon a time, he'd been extremely knowledgeable when it came to computers, and to a lesser extent, quite capable at hacking into them. It had always been more of a hobby of his than anything, never using it in any malicious way, just as a way to challenge himself. So he'd fallen back on those skills to gain him access to as much current information about Ana as he could find. It's how he knew where to find her, knew she was enrolled in school, her class schedule, and what kind of car she was driving now. It wasn't much, but at least it gave him a place to go, and Grey's men likely wouldn't suspect he would know where to look.

So that was his plan. To leave the gym and get into her apartment before her final Thursday class. Grey would be in Seattle working, far enough away to give Scott a little peace of mind. He would have time to work on bringing Ana back around to his side, then leave with her before Grey inevitably showed up on the weekend to see her.

He just hoped it was all enough. He didn't like the idea of incomplete plans leading him into this situation, but he knew there was no way to plan out every detail. His plans only took him so far, and from there, he had to just hope luck would take him the rest of the way.

Over the days leading up to the execution of this objective, he's slowly added to a collection of important things in his car. He knew, since he was being watched, that he couldn't just pack up a couple of suitcases and toss them into his truck without arousing suspicions, so he'd taken a small bag, a box, a container each day for a couple of days and stored them in there, so when he took off, he had everything he needed, from his important paperwork like birth certificates, bank accounts and passport, to clothes and other essentials he might need until he could set them up somewhere permanent.

Today was the last day though, he thought, as he pulled his gym duffle over his shoulder, filled with the last of the things he couldn't leave behind in his apartment. Tucked into the side pocket was a firearm he had but had never used, just something for home protection. He truthfully wasn't a big fan of guns, but better safe than sorry was a good enough reason for him to have one on hand, and he was definitely happy he had it today. He didn't plan to use it, but it could be helpful to use as a scare tactic if need be. Preferably not on Ana, since he wanted to regain her trust, not scare her. But if something went wrong, and Grey or one of his men showed up, it could buy him space, and time, if they were worried he might use it on them. Or her.

He forced himself to casually walk the few blocks to the gym, walking to the locker room to change his shoes just like he always did. Only this time he also changed his clothes, finally pulling a baseball cap down low over his eyes. He waited for a chance to silently slip out of the back door without any other members noticing, when the opportunity finally presented itself, he took a deep breath.

This was it.

He pressed his back against the door, slowly pushing it until the lever released from the frame. With the fluidity of a man confident in his actions, he slipped from the door, hearing it quietly click back into place behind him. He waited for a long moment, looking around to make sure no one was coming from either direction, and slipped down the alleyway, toward the route he'd mapped out over and over again in his head.

He checked his watch, confirming he had enough time to get to Ana's before the flower delivery service he'd ordered arrived at exactly 6:30 to deliver flowers to the apartment one floor below Ana's. He would be there to offer a friendly hand holding the door once the flower guy was buzzed in, gaining him access to the main building where he would pick the lock to get into Ana's apartment.

He felt the adrenaline coursing through his body, but it was invigorating. Because this was all for Ana. He just wants his life back to the way it was before. He just wanted her back where she belonged.

 **Christian PoV**

"I'll walk her up," Christian said to Taylor, not taking his eyes off Ana. He'd surprised her at school with flowers, picking her up from her last class and telling her he had surprise plans for a long weekend for them this weekend. She didn't have class on Fridays, but normally he had work. However, this particular weekend, he decided to take a day off and whisk her away for a long weekend, just the two of them. Sun, sand, and Ana.

She'd been thrilled to see him, which had quickly erased the nerves he'd felt at popping up to surprise her. He knew she'd talked to her therapist about the progression of their physical relationship, which had resulted in her pulling back from their physical intimacy. He'd been trying to prove to her since that he didn't care if they were having sex or not, that as long as she was a part of his life, the rest of it could wait for however long she needed it to. So he'd been a little worried that she'd take a surprise getaway for the two of them as a push for sex and might be put off by it. But she hadn't. She'd been nothing but genuinely excited and appreciative of what she stated was a sweet gesture on his part. And now they just needed to stop at her place so she could pack a quick bag so they could be on their way.

He grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers with hers while smiling down at her as they walked toward the apartment door. He wanted to kiss her. He'd avoided doing it on campus as it was filled with the gawking eyes of plenty of people who knew exactly who he was. Then he'd again managed to restrain himself in the car, out of respect for her, rather than mauling her in front of Taylor. But now, now they were quickly approaching the privacy of her apartment and he desperately wanted to just feel her mouth on his. So as she pushed the key into the lock and twisted the handle, Christian eagerly shuffled in behind her, determined to wrap her up in his arms the moment the door was closed.

And he did just that. Wrapping his arms around her from behind, a giggle bubbling from her throat as both of them took clumsy steps through the living room. He twisted her body and pulled her against, longing to feel her lips on his.

But as they came to the middle of the living room and the wall that had eclipsed the kitchen was no longer obstructing his view, he was met with a sight that halted his playful actions immediately. Standing in Ana's kitchen was Scott Kennedy. And resting on Ana's countertop was a gun.

Christian felt the beads of sweat pop out at his temples as he watched Scott's eyes rove over Ana, a mixture of longing and lust etched in his features that turned Christian's stomach.

"Ana," he exhaled, seemingly in relief, like he was sincerely happy to see her.

But Ana didn't say anything back, didn't address him at all. She just stood there, watching him, her face an unreadable expression. Christian instinctively placed a protective hand across her body, down over her hip. That was when Kennedy turned his gaze to Christian, his eyes hardening, his face washing over with annoyance and menace.

"What are you doing here, Kennedy?" he asked, trying to keep the tone of his voice strong and firm, even though inside he was legitimately scared. He had no idea what to expect out of Kennedy right now, but he didn't want him to think that whatever he had planned was going to go down without a fight.

"I'm here for my Ana," he said simply.

"She's not _your_ Ana," Christian bit back with venom, immediately regretting that he didn't have better control over his emotions. He wanted to show Kennedy he was in charge here, but truthfully he was at the end of his rope with this guy and had very little patience left for dealing with him. He just wanted him expunged from their lives so Ana and he could live without the constant fear of him popping back up.

"She was my Ana for a whole hell of a lot longer than she's been yours," Kennedy tutted condescendingly.

"She was never _yours_. She's a **person**. She's her _own_ person."

Kennedy cocked his head to the side, the hard depths of his unyielding stare coupled with the small uptick of his lips twisting his handsome face into something that legitimately frightened Christian.

"Funny, she sure felt like mine. Felt like **mine** when I sunk my cock into her tight little pussy and took her virginity. Felt like **mine** when I'd come home from a long day to her on her knees in the exact same spot I'd left her, ready to take my cock to the back of her throat. Felt like **mine** when _you_ were pursuing her like a lost puppy, but she was at **my** home, tied to **my** kitchen table with **my** dick in her ass-"

"Stop!" Christian boomed, unable to listen to anymore. He felt his stomach turn, felt the mixture of disgust and anger overwhelm him as he made a quick movement toward the sick bastard.

"Ah ah ah," Kennedy warned, quickly grabbing the gun from the countertop in front of him, effectively stopping Christian in his tracks. Christian felt the fear wash over him like a bucket of ice water. The reality of the situation settled in now. He and Ana were in real danger. He quickly rifled through the possible outcomes, trying to think of how they could escape. Could he disable Kennedy? Would Taylor come up to check on them eventually? He felt the guilt quickly well up in him that he'd been too focused on having an intimate moment with Ana to let his CPO come sweep the apartment first. Now Ana's life was at risk, and that was on him.

"I want you to sit down. Over there," Kennedy told him, pointing toward a chair across the room. Christian hesitated for a moment, not wanting to leave Ana's side, but when Kennedy took an aggressive step in his direction, gun raised, Christian complied.

Kennedy kept the gun steadily aimed at Christian's chest as he crossed the room and sat in the chair, and once he was seated, Kennedy turned all of his attention to Ana. His features once again softened as he spoke to her.

"Anastasia. I'm going to be completely transparent with you here. I want you back. I made some mistakes, but it was only because I was so crazy over the idea of losing you. You are the only thing in this world that can truly center me. You have always seen me as a source of strength, but the truth is, I draw my strength from you. You are the one true constant, the pillar in the center of my life that I use to keep everything going. I need you.

I know things got out of control, and that was my mistake. You have always relied on me to be in control, and I hadn't been, which gave you a chance to lose faith in my commitment to us and my ability to properly care for you. But I won't make that mistake again. Come back to me and I promise I will never lose focus again. You know how good we are together, you know what we had. We can have it again."

Christian's eyes, while they should have been glued on the guy with the gun, simply weren't. They were on Ana, assessing her. Was she okay? What would she do? She wasn't the same Ana that Scott remembered. She'd come so far. And as much as she deserved the chance to stand up for herself, Christian was worried that now wasn't the time, and she might get herself hurt if she said the wrong thing.

But nothing could have prepared him for what she actually did.

Nothing could have prepared him for the moment when when Anastasia Steele locked eyes with her former abuser, took deliberate steps in his direction until she was directly in front of him, then slowly straightened her spine, lowered her head, and dropped swiftly and gracefully to her knees at Scott Kennedy's feet.


End file.
